Their Lives and Love: The Outtakes
by ermireallydontcare
Summary: Outtakes and updates for 'Carlisle and Esme: Their Lives and Love'
1. Outtake: The Platts

**This is (hopefully) going to be a collection of outtakes (and possibly updates) from my recently completed story, 'Carlisle and Esme: Their Lives and Love.'**

**If you haven't read 'Their Lives and Love', then parts of this probably won't make sense. You can still read it if you wish (you should hopefully be able to figure out most of what's happening) or you're more than welcome to go read 'Their Lives and Loves' :)**

**So this first outtake is simply an idea that was stuck in my head – a further look into Esme's family.**

* * *

Grace hated the nights here most all.

She could hear the other inhabitants as they screamed and moaned in their insanity, and she wondered how long it would be until she became like them.

Whatever else she may have been, she wasn't stupid.

No matter what insults her teacher, her doctor, and even her own father had called her, Grace knew they weren't true.

Esme had told her so.

_Esme_. Grace thought the name sadly.

She saw and heard more than her family realized. She had long realized that silence was usually the best option, and she thought her parents often forgot that she was in the room. Or when she could hear her family discussing things, she would sit outside the door and listen, knowing they would not let her hear if she entered the room.

She wished with all her heart she had been able to break that habit.

As she sat alone, in her cold metal bed, her thoughts turned once more to the last conversation she had overheard in that manner.

Grace had been sat upstairs, hiding out in her room. She heard the door open and close, and she realized with a soaring heart that it must have meant her sister was here. She wanted to go rushing down to see her, but first she finished lining up her pencils. She had long accepted that she would not be able to concentrate on anything else knowing her task was unfinished.

By the times she got downstairs, Esme was crying. That wasn't right. Esme never cried. She was the strong sister.

Grace knew Esme would never tell her what was wrong, so she stopped outside the door and listened.

"Aren't you going to help me?" her sister's voice was pleading, desperate.

Insatiably curious, she opened the door just a crack. Just enough to be able to see her sister and parents. She could only see the back of her sister, but she could see her parents' faces well enough. Her father was scowling and her mother wore that conflicted face Grace knew so well. It was the one who mother wore whenever her father lost her temper. The one that Grace had noticed sneak onto her mother's face at Esme's wedding when she thought no one was watching her.

"Go home, Esme," her father told her sternly. "You're shaming yourself, your husband, and us with this dishonourable action."

Esme sobbed only harder. "Please. I can't go back there. I can't live like that anymore."

"Go home, Esme," her father repeated his stern order.

"What? Go home to Charles? So I can add another bruise to the collection? Another cut? Another broken rib? Another embarrassing trip to the hospital?" There was sarcasm in her sister's voice now, and anger, but the overall desperation in her words was still easy to hear.

Grace didn't understand what Esme was talking about now. What did her husband have to do with her getting hurt? How was she hurting herself so badly? What had happened that was so bad Esme would have had to go to the hospital again?

A distant memory played through Grace's mind. A scream. A crack. And her sister sat in a huddle at the bottom of a tree, holding her leg and crying. As always, Grace felt a twinge of guilt at the memory. If she hadn't pulled her hand away and screamed. If she was only able to control herself like a normal person.

But Grace hadn't ever seen Esme hurt since her cast came off. So why would she be going to the hospital?

And what did it all have to do with her husband?

"Esme," her mother sighed. "Come with me." She began to guide her daughter out of the living room and into the kitchen. This movement brought Esme walking past her sister's line of sight through the crack in the door. Her sleeves were rolled up to her elbows and Grace caught a glimpse of the purple bruises and red scars that dotted her arms.

What had her sister done to herself to get in such a terrible state?

Quietly, Grace moved down the hallway so she was outside the kitchen. The voices inside were too quiet to be heard, so she once more carefully opened the door just the tiniest bit to allow the voices to drift into the hallway.

"Esme dear, you have to remember you can't act like this anymore. You're a wife now and you have to remember how a women should behave."

"You mean keep quiet, not say anything, hide my scars, and pretend everything's okay? I've been doing that for years now and I can't do it any longer."

"You don't have a choice, dear. There's nothing you, or I, can do."

"Except grin and bear it because we're women," Esme replied with bitter sarcasm. She sighed deeply, placing her head in her hands. Finally, she looked up at her mother again.

"I can't go back there," she whispered quietly. The same thing she had said earlier to her father.

"You have no choice," her mother repeated gently. "I think it's best if you go home now, Esme."

"You have a strange definition of 'best', Mother," Esme said with quiet bitterness. Without another word, she stood up and walked out of the house.

Ruth sat and stared at the door her eldest daughter had just exited for a few moments, but then her husband called her name from the next room, and she dutifully went to him.

Grace was still trying to process what she had overheard. She didn't understand. What was happening to her sister?

With a sudden burst of determination, she snuck quickly across the kitchen and out the door. Running as fast as she could despite her bad co-ordination, she quickly caught up with her sister.

"Esme, OK?" she asked, hating how child-like her words sounded. She never had been able to communicate properly.

"Of course, Grace dear," Esme replied softly. Grace realized her sister would not tell her anything. Whatever was happening was bad and Esme would never wish to upset her.

"No, you're not," Grace said determinedly, shaking her head. She was as much talking to herself as her sister.

Grace was angry now. She wanted to know why her parents had turned her sister away when she so badly needed help. Grace's temper had always scared her. She lost control when she was mad: screaming, crying and shouting.

That was when it was at its worse – whatever it was that was wrong with her.

Grace didn't even fully remember what had happened next. She knew she had confronted her parents, shouting at them for letting Esme get hurt. But it was all a blur of anger. She preferred not to think about.

_After all, it's why I'm in here._ The next thing she knew Grace had flung her pillow across the room.

She quickly scuttled across the small room after it, returning it to it's rightful place on her bed, as if righting the effects of her actions as quickly as possible could make it so that they had never happened at all. That she was normal. That she wasn't insane like the other inmates of this place.

But being stuck in the asylum was not the main reason for Grace's bitter wish that she had been able to break the habit of listening in to conversations.

No, her wish stemmed from an event years beforehand – that she had only just truly begun to comprehend the consequences off.

She wished she had never overheard Esme tell their father about her desire to travel out West. For if she hadn't then she would not have run distraught into her sister's room that night, effectively changing her sister's mind.

At the time, Grace had been proud of herself. Esme was staying. She would never have to live alone with just her parents. Her sister would never leave her.

Of course, the naïve little girl had been wrong.

If only Esme had gone West, she lamented once more. It seemed simple to her that then her sister would have been happy. There would have been no Charles. And if there was no Charles then there would have been no bruises, no cuts, and no crying. For Grace had slowly placed the pieces of what she had overheard together.

And she was well aware that in all likelihood she would have ended up in the asylum either way. Father would have found an excuse.

But no, Esme had stayed. All because of Grace. No matter what her parents or anyone else said or did to her, no one could hate her quite like Grace hated herself.

'If I was normal' was a game she often played in her own head. If she was normal, her parents would have loved her. If she was normal, she could have had a normal childhood. If she was normal, Esme would never have had to stand up for and make Mother and Father cross at her as well. If she was normal, Esme would never have married Charles. If she was normal, everyone would be happy…

Grace knew the futility of these thoughts and she tried to direct her mind somewhere else. In the end, she settled on doing her sums. The familiar numbers and answers flowed through her mind with ease. They reminded her of sitting in a tree with Esme, feeling cocooned and safe.

Slowly, tiredness overcame her and as usual she fell into a restless sleep.

~o~ ~O~ ~o~

Ruth visited her daughter the day before she died. Henry had refused to come with her, as he had every time she suggested a visit. But the thought of her daughter all alone in one of those places had been slowly eating away at her.

The first thing Grace said when the assistant showed her mother in was her sister's name. This didn't surprise Ruth. Even she would have guessed at Esme being the first person to visit, but where Esme had disappeared only God knew.

"No, Grace. It's me, Mama."

Confusion clouded Grace's features.

"What you doing here?" she asked coldly.

"I wanted to visit you," Ruth replied kindly, sitting down on the bed next to her daughter.

"Father let you," Grace said tonelessly. She had never truly mastered the art of sarcasm, but it was still clear what she was trying to imply.

Ruth choose to ignore this comment. "How are you?"

Grace glared at her mother and didn't answer. The look said it all.

"I'm sorry, Grace," Ruth whispered to her daughter. Grace looked away and did not speak. The gloomy silence stretched on for what felt like eternity to Ruth. Now she was here she had very little to actually say to her daughter. For what do you say to a child that thinks you hate them?

"Where's Esme?" Grace finally asked, turning to look at her mother once more.

"I don't know," Ruth admitted quietly. Grace's face furrowed with confusion. "She's missing," Ruth clarified.

"She ran away," Grace declared happily. To her it was blaringly obvious. For Esme had never been one to put up with being wronged for long – Grace knew that from the number of times Esme had defended her.

"We don't know what happened," Ruth replied, though truthfully she believed Grace was correct. For quite a few of her daughter's clothes and possessions had disappeared alongside her. No matter how profusely Charles Evenson denied it in public, everyone knew his wife had run away from him. But, of course, as Esme's parents, Ruth and Henry could never admit to that obvious fact either, for it reflected as badly on them as it did Charles.

"She ran away," Grace repeated.

"Yes," Ruth admitted – for there was no harm in admitting it to her supposedly insane daughter.

"Good," Grace replied contently.

"It's not good, Grace," Ruth corrected her. She couldn't imagine where her daughter could possibly have gone. She had no money and no home, and she would be six months pregnant by now. Was she all alone on the streets somewhere? What would she do when the baby was born? Was she even still alive?

Regardless of the atrocities Charles Evenson had committed, Ruth simply couldn't see how Esme and her baby could possibly be better off where ever it was they now were.

Grace didn't argue, but Ruth could tell she didn't agree. As silence fell once more, she searched her mind for a different topic to discuss.

"How are you, Grace?" she asked again, forgetting she had already asked once.

Like earlier, Grace didn't reply, choosing instead to stare at the wall in the opposite direction of her mother.

"Grace?" Ruth called pleadingly.

Her daughter turned to look at her then, and the look in her eyes was so desperate it shook Ruth to her core.

"I'm scared, Mama," Grace finally whispered.

"I'm sorry, Grace," she replied again, having no other answer. Her daughter returned to staring at the opposite wall in silence and Ruth realized she would get nothing else out of her.

"Well, I, I guess I should be going," she announced. Grace turned sharply at this statement.

"Please," she sobbed. "Please, don't leave me here."

"This, this place is going to make you better, Grace," Ruth told her forcefully, trying to persuade herself as much as her daughter.

"No, it's not," Grace replied quietly, confident in her answer.

For whatever else Grace Platt was, she wasn't stupid.

~o~ ~O~ ~o~

As she walked the long distance home, Ruth couldn't get the image of her daughter out of her head. Grace had always been small and skinny, but she seemed to have shrunk even more in that wretched place. It was probably due to malnourishment, for her doctors had told Ruth that Grace was refusing to eat properly and throwing 'tantrums' when they tried to force her. But in Ruth's mind, it was because of her fear of the place she was locked in. The gloomy, grey building just seemed to swallow up her fragile youngest daughter.

_I'll talk to Henry about her when I get home, see if I can make him change her mind,_ she told herself determinedly. But the closer she got to home, the more her determination faded.

When she finally arrived home, she found her husband drunk and angry. Somehow, despite the new prohibition laws introduced last year, Henry still managed to get his hands on liquor on a frequent basis. Like many women, she had thought the new laws a good thing – that they would stop her husband from getting drunk – but she was quickly learning that wasn't the case.

"How was the little idiot then?" he slurred.

"She's, she's," Ruth searched for the right word, "scared." The word Grace herself had used seemed to describe her best. But it didn't seem strong enough compared to the withered away girl she had seen earlier today.

"I'm worried about her," Ruth continued, remembering her decision.

"Worried," Henry repeated, standing up and looking directly at her. Ruth knew the angry glint in her husband's eyes well. Automatically, she took a step back. Henry was not usually violent – Ruth could count on one hand the number of times he had actually hit her, and she knew she had suffered less in her entire marriage than Esme would have done in just one night by the hands of Charles Evenson – but Henry was still terrifying when he lost her temper. He didn't need his hands, he could hurt her through words alone.

"I don't think it's helping her," Ruth told him, trying to stop her voice from faltering.

"It will do eventually," Henry told her forcefully. In her gut, Ruth knew he was wrong, but she didn't tell him that in fear of the impending argument.

"Of course," she agreed timidly.

_I'll try again tomorrow when he's not drunk_.

~o~ ~O~ ~o~

But tomorrow soon came around and still Ruth's nerves failed her.

Little did she know what was happening across town in the asylum. Chaos surrounded Grace as she slipped from consciousness. The electric shocks she had quickly grown to despise were still pulsing through her, but she no longer had the strength to scream from the pain. Her last thoughts were for sister.

_I hope she's safe. I hope she's safe with her doctor._

For as Grace had fallen asleep the night before, she had pondered where her sister could be. She had remembered a conversation she'd had with Esme after her cast had been removed from her broken leg.

She had snuck into Esme's bedroom once her parents were asleep, as she often did.

"Esme OK now?" she asked in a whisper.

"I'm fine, Grace. Good as new." Esme stretched out her leg to prove her point.

"You see him?"

"See who, dear?"

"Your doctor," Grace replied exasperatedly. For after Esme had come back from the hospital first time, she had excitedly told Grace all about the wonderful doctor who had treated her, during a whispered night-time conversation like this one. Grace hadn't really understood Esme's excitement, but she listened happily to her sister's hushed voice. Being with Esme always made her feel safe. And it would appear Esme was not angry about her fall, as Grace had worried she would be for. If Esme grew to hate her as well she would have no one to turn to.

"Yes, to have my cast removed," Esme replied patiently.

"Not like him this time?" Grace asked, confused by her sister's lack of enthusiasm like last time. Not that she had understood why her sister had been so excited over a doctor. In Grace's opinion, doctors were horrible. They were always mean about her. But Esme had said that her doctor had said nice things about Grace.

"It was a different doctor, dear."

"Oh," was all Grace could think to say in reply. She didn't really understand why any of this mattered. Esme was OK. That was what mattered. There would be no more doctors.

Like many things, it had taken Grace many years to truly understand what had happened.

Esme had fallen for her doctor. It was that simple. And Grace hoped Esme had gone to find him.

Esme deserved happiness.

That was Grace's very last thought on this Earth.

~o~ ~O~ ~o~

Ruth was making dinner when the sound of a horse travelling up the lane towards the farm caught her attention. They weren't expecting any visitors.

She had opened the door before their visitor had even made it to the door. She recognized the man immediately, he was one of the men who had been at her house four months ago, to take Grace away.

"Is Grace OK?" she asked instantly.

"Can I come in, Mrs. Platt? I need to speak to you and your husband."

"Why?" she asked sharply, scared.

"I'm afraid I have bad news. I'd rather explain with your husband present as well, is he in?"

"Y, yes," Ruth stammered. "Come, come in." Hurriedly, she led the man through the kitchen and into the parlour, calling her husband's name as she did. Henry face clouded with conclusion as he noticed the man following his wife, but as the visitor sat down he sat down opposite. Ruth remained standing between the two of them.

"Um, this is Mr… Dr?" Ruth began to tell her husband, but trailed off, realizing she didn't know the man's name.

"Dr. Williams," the man in question supplied for her.

"You're from the asylum," Henry stated.

"Dr. Williams has something to tell us about Grace," Ruth informed him, then looked anxiously over at the doctor.

"Have you cured her?" Henry asked incredulously. Ruth hopes soared for a second until she remembered the doctor had mentioned 'bad news.'

"No, unfortunately I'm here on much sadder business," he said gravely. "Maybe you should sit down, Mrs. Platt," he suggested gently. Ruth did as he said automatically, taking her seat beside her husband.

"What is it, doctor?" Henry asked.

"We were giving your daughter her shock treatment this morning, and, um, well-"

"What happened?" Ruth asked sharply. She had never liked the sound of the shock treatments.

'_You want to send her to an asylum where they'll shock her? They'll kill her!' _Esme's enraged shout from an argument years ago echoed through her head

"Where not entirely certain what happened, but something went wrong."

"Is Grace OK?" Ruth asked forcefully.

"A regret to tell you that Grace," the doctor sighed, "Grace died."

"Died?" Ruth repeated the word unbelievingly. "She's… she dead?" she stammered.

"My deepest condolences," the doctor said gravely. The empty words of a man who knew there was nothing he could say to soften the blow of the news he had to deliver.

"You… you were meant to make her better!" Ruth shouted. "Not… not kill her!" She began to sob violently.

"I think you should go upstairs, dear," Henry ordered gently. "By the sounds of it, me and the doctor have a lot to discuss."

Ruth obeyed silently, her sobs never ceasing. Once she got in to her room, she collapsed onto the door, sliding slowly onto the floor. She curled into a ball and continued to cry. Her thoughts were a jumbled mess. Different images flickered through her mind. Grace's pleading, scared eyes the last time she had seen her. Dr. Williams and his colleagues dragging her screaming daughter into their van. A teenaged Esme in their living room, arguing vehemently with her father.

_She was more Grace's mother than I ever was._

The thought only made her sob harder. She had failed both her daughters. One dead and one missing. Both of them forced into lives of misery by her.

_No, by Henry! But you never stopped him. You never stood up for them._

She heard the sound of the door closing downstairs. Forcing herself to stand up, she got changed into her nightgown shakily and got into her bed. She doubted she would be asleep by the time her husband came to join her, but she would fake sleep anyway. For she knew she could not risk a conversation with him tonight. The temper she had tried so hard to keep under wraps all these years would spill over and she could not risk that. It would not end well.

So when her husband finally came to bed, she kept her eyes clamped close, trying to make her breathing sound normal.

They both lay like that for hours, facing away from each other and pretending to be asleep, but really they were kept awake by their churning minds, as they thought through everything they had done to their daughters.

~o~ ~O~ ~o~

Ruth wrote the letters numbly. One for each member of her family: her sister, her brother, both her nieces, and her nephew. They were bland and simple, announcing Grace's death in clichéd terms.

She had no idea of the effect her letter to her niece, Helen, would have. For Helen, living much further away than the rest of her family, received her letter last. After she'd read the letter, she looked over the top of it at her 'missing' cousin, Esme, sat across from her, playing with Helen's children, Robert and Dorothy. As Helen watched, she saw her cousin absent-mindedly rub her now protruding stomach. Helen didn't have the heart to tell her there and then that her sister was dead, not when she was so happy and content. Esme was finally comfortable, the fearful aura that had surrounded her when she arrived slowly dissolving as the months went by and there was no sign of her husband.

The next day, Helen received a letter from her mother, Mary. In it, her mother told her about Grace's funeral. She had been the only attendee aside from Grace's parents. Mary wrote of how disappointed Aunt Ruth had been, as she had somehow got it into her head that Esme would show up, despite the fact that there was no way Esme could even have known about Grace's death, for she was still missing. Helen had felt a pang of guilt then, for she could have let Aunt Ruth know that her daughter was safe. With her youngest in the ground at just sixteen, it would be such a comfort to the poor woman.

In an exhilarating rush of realization, Helen realized she could still tell Aunt Ruth that her daughter was safe. She quickly gathered up her quill, ink, and paper, feeling proud of herself when she thought of the joy her letter would bring her aunt.

~o~ ~O~ ~o~

Ruth stared incredulously at the piece of paper in her hands.

_Esme's safe. Esme's safe. _That's all she could process.

"Ruth? What's in your letter, dear? Anything of interest?" her husband asked.

"Not really. Helen sends her condolences for Grace's death," she replied quickly, trying to regain her composure. She folded the letter up quickly, stuffing it hastily back into the letter, while trying to act nonchalant.

Henry seemed to be looking at her curiously, but then he returned his attention to his paper, and Ruth had to resist the urge to breath a sigh of relief.

Though she went around her chores as normal, there was still a spring to Ruth's step all day. At least one of her daughters was safe. Safe and with family. It was a better outcome than Ruth would ever have dared to imagine. Esme was far away from Charles' violent hands, yet Ruth knew she was safe. She could ask Helen to keep her updated on Esme and her pregnancy. Maybe she could even visit the child once it was born under the guise of visiting Helen and her family.

_Everything may just turn out alright for Esme after all._

~o~ ~O~ ~o~

She couldn't help the gasp that escaped her lips. The basket she had been holding fell to the floor with a large crash. On a list of people she would not have expected to discover standing in her kitchen, he came top. But there he stood, build as brass, as if he had every right to be there and nothing to be ashamed off.

"What are you doing here?" she demanded harshly.

"I simply came to offer my condolences for your daughter's death. In light of that dreadful news, I'm sure you'll be delighted to learn that I intend to have your other daughter safely home soon," Charles Evenson replied smoothly.

"You… you know where she is?" Ruth stammered disbelievingly. Her thoughts drifted to Helen's letter, hidden in the depths of her underwear drawer. She had intended to read it properly as soon as she could, compose a reply, and then burn it before Henry could find it.

"In Milwaukee, I believe. In hiding with your niece, Helen."

"How? How do you?"

"How do I know that? You really should find a better hiding place, Mrs. Platt. But at least I've learned I can trust one of my parents-in-law."

"Henry," Ruth murmured. Hatred for the man she called her husband boiled up inside her. How could he sell their own daughter out to the man who had abused her? Hadn't he learnt anything from Grace's death? Did he suffer no guilt over what had happened to her?

She realized her son-in-law's sharp eyes were still watching her.

"Please," she pleaded. "Please, just let her be."

"I just want my wife back. Surely that's understandable. And she's carrying my child, she has no right to take him away from me. I'm just taking back what's mine," Charles replied calmly, seemingly unbothered by her pleas.

"And what well you do once you've got her back? Go back to abusing her once more?" Ruth had no idea where this strength was coming from. She had not been so outspoken in years. She realized she sounded like her daughter. Or the spirited woman her daughter had once been.

"I've no idea what you're talking about," Charles lied, faking shock.

Ruth was about to retort when her husband walked into the room.

"How could you?" she demanded before she could stop herself.

"Esme belongs with her husband, Ruth," Henry replied in a tone that would brook no argument. "How about you make us some dinner?"

Ruth knew she could never win this argument. Once more, there was nothing she could do to help her daughter. Obediently, she picked up the groceries she had dropped in her shock earlier, and did as her husband ordered.

Charles and Henry made no effort to hide their conversation from Ruth as she cooked. No doubt they believed she would not dare to do anything to stop them.

But as she listened in, Ruth formulated a plan. They were planning to go to Milwaukee next week. If she was lucky, a letter could beat them there. She could forewarn her niece and her daughter. She knew they was a high chance it would not work. But she had to try. After all these years of standing by and doing nothing to help her daughter, she knew she had to act in her defence this time. For the stakes were higher than they ever had been. Ruth did not even want to imagine what Charles would do to his pregnant wife if she was once more trapped in his grasp.

She wrote the letter in the dead of night, creeping downstairs and writing by candlelight. She continuously prayed her husband would not wake up and come to find her.

Throwing her husband's heavy coat over her nightgown, Ruth snuck out of her house. She ran quickly to the post box at the end of her road. As she pushed her letter inside, she prayed once more it would get to its destination in time. Her daughter's happiness depended on it.

_And maybe even her life._

A week later, when Henry returned from Milwaukee in a terrible rage, Ruth knew her plan had been a success.

But now she was in the same situation as before, she had no idea where her pregnant runaway daughter was. However, she had changed her mind regarding what was best for her daughter and her child. Far-away and unknown was a lot better than in Charles' hands.

~o~ ~O~ ~o~

It was eight months later when yet another knock sounded on the Platts' front door. As soon as Ruth opened the door, her mind flashed back to the day she had found out Grace was dead. For the policeman on her doorstep wore exactly the same look.

"Hello, Mrs. Platt. I'm George Colbert. You may remember me, I was the man first put in charge of the disappearance of your daughter, Esme Evenson." Ruth remembered him vaguely then. He had sat with her, Henry, and Charles in the Evensons' living room on the day Esme had first been reported as missing. Though she had actually been missing for a week by then, but Charles had only just reported it – assuming his wife would return soon enough. And that he wouldn't have to go through the embarrassment of admitting his wife had run away.

"Have you found her?" Ruth sounded hopeful, then she remembered that would mean Charles would know where she was too. Ruth had to resist the urge to cringe at the image of her daughter being beaten, perhaps even in front of her own baby, for she should have given birth by now.

"We think we may have discovered what happened to her," he replied carefully.

"May I come in, please? Is your husband home?" Ruth nodded yes to both questions, and, just as she had with Dr. Williams, she led the policeman into their parlour. She hoped the news wasn't the same. For no matter what the future may have held for her if she was alive, Ruth couldn't stand the idea that Esme was dead too.

"Sit down, Mr. Colbert. My husband's out back in the fields, I'll go get him." Ruth tried to keep herself steady as she walked through the house and out the front door. She called her husband's name from the porch.

"What?" he snapped as he walked towards her.

"There's a policeman here to speak to us. About Esme." Henry quickly followed her into the house, ignoring the dirt on his clothes and shoes.

After they were both seated, they turned their attention to the uncomfortable looking policeman.

"George Colbert," he said in introduction to Henry.

"Henry Platt. You were there when Esme's disappearance was first reported, correct?"

"Yes."

"So, what have you come to tell us?" Henry asked impatiently.

"I received a letter yesterday. From a colleague who works in Wisconsin. Obviously, when your daughter's disappearance was first reported, we sent out letters to other police stations asking for any report of someone fitting her description."

"Somebody saw her?" Ruth gasped.

"Not quite," Mr. Colbert replied uneasily. "There is no easy way to inform you of this. My colleague was dealing with a report regarding a suicide in Ashland, when he noticed the woman's last name was Platt. We put both names on the letters in case your daughter reverted to her maiden name." He didn't mention why she would do so, but everyone present knew what was being implied.

"A… a suicide?" Ruth stammered in shock. "Why, why would she?" Ruth couldn't imagine Esme would take her own life. Admittedly she had many reasons to do so, but if Ruth knew anything about her daughter it was that she would have stayed alive for her child if nothing else.

"The woman in the report was Grace Marie Platt."

"That's my other daughter," Ruth corrected and relief flowed through her. "She died eleven months. It must just be a coincidence." But even as she said it she realized the chance of someone having the exact same name as Grace was slim, and her relief was quickly replaced with panic once more.

"We believe Esme was probably using her sister's name. The woman, this Grace Platt, fitted Esme's description. And she had given birth the day before. Your daughter was supposed to be pregnant when she ran away, was she not?"

Ruth nodded. "What happened to the baby?" she whispered.

"The child passed away shortly after his birth. It's believed that's what led to his mother's decision to jump off a cliff." That information confirmed in Ruth's mind that it was Esme they were talking about. For with her son gone, what more did Esme have to live for?

But still, the image of her daughter jumping off a cliff horrified her to the core. Her daughter had died a broken woman, when she had once been so alive. Ruth had tried her best to squash that life out of her daughter when she was growing up, to make her obedient and quiet as she should be. In the end, she had truly taken the life from her.

"So you believe this woman was Esme and that she killed herself," Henry summarised bleakly.

"Yes, Mr. Platt. I'm sorry. I know this is a lot to process. I'll let myself out, if you wish." With one last sombre nod in their direction, he left.

Ruth had nothing to say, she was still processing the information she had just learnt. Trying to come to terms with the idea that her daughter was not safe and happy with her child somewhere as she been trying to convince herself, but in the ground, the babe alongside her.

She heard her husband move and dully noted he was heading towards where he kept his liquor.

Silently, she fled upstairs, and, just as she had when Grace died, she curled into a ball and cried all her grief out. Both her daughters were dead now. One murdered in an asylum and one by her own hand. She had truly failed as a mother.

When Henry came to bed he was off his head on alcohol. Though she pretended to be asleep again, this time he spoke to her anyway.

"I killed them both," he murmured. "I killed them both." He began to sob helplessly, something Ruth had never seen him do before. Despite everything she wanted to comfort him, but she realized she could think of nothing to say to do so. For how could she argue against something she agreed with?

"I killed them. I killed them. I killed them," he muttered with frantic anguish, and then he collapsed onto the bed. Ruth knew from experience the best thing to do was to let him sleep him off.

But Henry never woke up. Alcohol poisoning, the doctor's said. His frantic regretful mutterings were the last words he said, and Ruth liked to think they showed that he did feel remorse for what had happened to his daughter. For she knew in her heart, that he had not been a bad man. He had not been an alcoholic or a harsh man when she had first married him. It had been disappointment that had twisted him into the man he had become, and Ruth wished life could have turned out differently for all of them, but she could not change the past.

Maybe if her daughters had been the sons he had wanted, none of this would have happened. But somehow she couldn't wish for that, it felt disloyal to the memory of the daughters she had loved, despite everything.

When they buried Henry alongside Grace, Ruth also had them add a memorial for Esme to the stone that marked the grave. It was the best she could do in honour of her daughter's memory.

Following her husband's death, Ruth sold the farm and moved in with her long-widowed sister, Mary.

When she died two years later, she left only two requests in her will.. The first request was about what to do with what was left of the money she had gained from her sale of the farm. Half of it went to the local women's right movement. The other half went to the local medical school, with special orders to try and research into diseases of the brain that did not lead to insanity.

That peculiar order confused many of the doctors at the school, for surely there was no such thing. But Ruth had known that it was true. That no matter what illness had affected her daughter – she had not been insane.

The second was to be buried with her husband and youngest daughter, as well as the memory of her eldest daughter.

These requests were carried out, and Ruth was placed in the ground alongside her family.

Ninety-seven years later, the words Ruth had so desperately wished to hear for the last four years of her life were finally said to her.

"I forgive you."

* * *

**I was trying to give us a further look into Grace's mind, as well as humanise Esme's parents a little.**

**As always when I write about Grace, I take full responsiblity for any mistakes made regarding her disablity, and no offence is intended.**

**Reviews are greatly appreciated :) If you have any ideas for possible outtakes I'd be delighted to hear them.**


	2. The Epilogue Hints

**This isn't really an outtake, just something I compiled for my own amusement and thought I'd share.**

**For those of you who have read 'Their Lives and Love', you'll probably remember I asked about how many 'hints' readers picked up from the epilogue. This is a list of them.**

**P.S I haven't mentioned Esme visiting her families' graves as a 'hint' even though it is obviously referencing back to what happened in earlier chapters.**

* * *

Normal text is a quote from the epilogue.

**Bold text says which chapter it's referencing towards.**

* * *

1)The sun poking through the curtains caught my eye as dawn truly broke. I smiled happily at the memory connected to the sight.

"Thinking about your first time in the sun?" Carlisle asked lightly.

"Literally or metaphorically? Because they both happened here in this house," I replied softly.

**Ch. 32: Carlisle**

* * *

2) "I kind of wish it was snowing," he announced, his voice deadly serious. I couldn't help the giggle that escaped my lips and I turned slightly to look at my husband incredulously.

"It's May, darling. It doesn't snow in May," I replied, unable to help the slightly patronizing tone to my voice. Carlisle simply chuckled at me.

"It was just a random thought," my husband explained patiently. "My angel," he added with a teasing glint to his eye.

I laughed merrily as the memory he was referencing came to mind and his sudden desire for snow made a lot more sense.

"You're a fool, you know that?" I asked teasingly.

**Ch. 40: Snow Angels**

* * *

3) "You know, Esme, if you're going to call me by nicknames, we should probably go up to my old office to be true to the memory." His soft voice was tantalizing to me.

**Ch. 42: Self-Control? (and various later references)**

* * *

4) "And what brilliantly clichéd gift will I be getting this year, Dr. Cullen?" I asked him teasingly.

**Ch. 48: Anniversary (and various later references)**

* * *

5) I followed my two children quite contently until we came to Edward's latest car. He was immensely proud of it, because it had some… new fangled thing bob.

"I see your knowledge of cars is as up to scratch as ever, Esme," Edward joked.

**Ch. 64: Happier Daughter (and various later references)**

* * *

6) "Why do I always end up blindfolded on my major anniversaries?" I muttered to myself.

**Ch. 73: Isle Esme**

* * *

7)I heard him move once more, and then after a few seconds he murmured, "Open your eyes, Esme."

Instantly, I did as he commanded, my excitement and curiosity irrepressible. The image that greeted me immediately brought to mind a nearly identical image from over a century ago. Carlisle was knelt down in front of me on one knee, an open ring box in his hand.

**Ch. 38: Doing Things Properly**

* * *

8) "That's the dress I made," I whispered.

**Ch. 42: Self-Control?**

* * *

9) "Orange blossoms!" I gasped. "Just like first time round…But… they're… orange?"

**Ch. 43: Christmas Wedding**

* * *

10) Though I had only just got use to the new eternity ring, it felt unbelievable strange to remove my wedding ring, something I usually only did for decorating, and then I did it unhappily.

**Ch. 39: Decorating & Ch. 92: Agreements**

* * *

11)As we left the Church, it began to rain confetti on from all sides. I laughed merrily and I heard Carlisle doing the same.

"What's the point of all the confetti again, lil bro?" I heard Emmett ask.

"It has its significance," Edward replied with a laugh.

**Ch. 43: Christmas Wedding**

* * *

12) "Did Esme just recognize a car?" several voices exclaimed in pretend shock. I only giggled happily at them.

**Same as #5**

* * *

13) "Shouldn't you be paying attention to the road?" I scolded gently. "I think we've learnt the hard way what nearly happens when you get too distracted."

**Ch. 52: A Night Out**

* * *

14) "Here, here," my children shouted, pretending to raise glasses as well. I heard my husband chuckle and I couldn't help but smile, as I realized the memory they were re-enacting. A memory of one of the happiest moments of my life.

**Ch. 105: Relief**

* * *

15) Esme Cullen: the only woman in the world who would be nice

to the girl who ripped her arm off. Long story."

**Ch. 60: Understanding and Misunderstanding**

* * *

16) I'm still trying to prove to her I am good at buying anniversary presents. You think the private island would have done that, but…"

"Hey!" I protested. "I said you'd gotten better. And when have I ever suggested to you that Isle Esme wasn't a good present?"

**Same as #4 and also Ch. 73: Isle Esme**

* * *

17) "Haven't we established you're a diva, Esme?" Emmett teased.

**Ch. 93: Chess and Chase**

* * *

18) "Ha ha," I replied sarcastically, crossing my arms defiantly. The next thing I knew I felt my husband's lips graze mine as he bent down to kiss me quickly.

"Was that really necessary?" I heard a voice ask.

"You were pouting," my husband informed me quietly. I heard several groans of despair from our children who were close enough to hear his reply.

**Ch. 39: Decorating (and various later references)**

* * *

19) "And I'll always be eternally grateful that a spirited farm girl in Ohio decided climbing a tree in a corset and full-length skirt was a good idea."

**Ch. 15: Grace and Trees**

* * *

20) "I thought good things always happened to you when you fell out of trees?" Rosalie remarked with a smirk.

"I believe you'll find it was my husband who said that. Though it's true for me too."

**Ch. 63: Emmett**

* * *

21) "My favourite," I whispered with a soft smile.

"Edward recorded it for you," Carlisle explained as he began to led me around the dance floor.

"We actually have room this time," I remarked happily. "Not that it mattered first time round. It only mattered that I was dancing with you. As your wife."

**Ch. 43: Christmas Wedding**

* * *

22) But I soon forgot about everyone around us as my husband pulled me closer, and ignoring the tempo and style of the changing songs, we slow danced together.

**Ch. 52: A Night Out**

* * *

23) "Let me guess, I'm going to the be wearing the purple dress and Carlisle's going to drive me to a house we also own nearby for our honeymoon."

**Ch. 31: Esme & Ch. 43: Christmas Wedding**

* * *

24) Leah snorted with laughter then, tapping her husband's chest.

"I'm not the only one who thinks hitting their husband is perfectly acceptable then," Rosalie said as she walked over.

"Of course not," Leah replied.

"Pfft, even I do it," I chimed in to great amusement.

**Ch. 33: Fireside (and in later chapters as well)**

* * *

25) "My family," I murmured. So many people I loved and cared about. The woman who had once thought she had nobody left to live for now had this large extended family.

"_Our_ family," my husband corrected. I knew it was the same for him. The man who had once been all alone now had people who he loved and cared about and vice versa.

**Ch. 105: Relief**

* * *

26) "Yes, at least you remembered this anniversary," he said mischievously.

**Ch. 48: Anniversary**

* * *

27) "Bella asked me to pass on a message. She said she can be a vampire camera ninja too."

**Ch. 83: Forever Young**

* * *

28) "No, it's not just for nostalgias sake. I'll always enjoy calling you Mrs. Cullen. After a hundred years, I still can't believe it sometimes."

**Ch. 99: My Son's Wedding**

* * *

29) I relaxed my grip slightly, kissing my husband passionately. Next thing I knew he had flipped us over so it was me who had her wrists pinned to the bed.

"How. Do. You. Do. That?" I grumbled. My husband simply grinned devilishly before his mouth began to ravish mine again.

**Ch. 63: Emmett**

* * *

30) "Did you just call me darling?"

"Go ahead and tickle me," I teased with another encouraging kiss.

**Same as #3**

* * *

31) "My panties are on the floor and my bra is, somehow, on the chandelier again."

**Ch. 68: Too Funny**

* * *

32) "You had some of the Bronte sisters' books right next to the Jane Austen ones," I teased him.

"Courtesy of the Denali sisters," he reminded me.

**Ch. 31: Esme**

* * *

33) "You're a hopeless romantic, Dr. Cullen," I teased, rubbing my nose against him.

"Anyone ever told you the story about the pot and kettle?" my husband murmured in reply, before kissing the bridge of my nose.

**Ch. 42: Self Control? & Ch. 79: Welcome**

* * *

34) "You weren't complaining on the plane to Ireland. In fact, I believe that entire incident was your fault."

**Ch. 75: Vampire Meet and Greet (Not an actual reference but I was trying to refer that the incident mentioned happened just prior to that chapter.)**

* * *

35) My hands were tracing the glistening lines of his chest – Carlisle's point of the island being sunny being an advantage had been rather proved as we indulged in one of my fav

ourite activities my island had to offer.

**Ch. 73: Isle Esme**

* * *

36) "Do you still fear fire?" I asked him softly – he would understand the true meaning behind my question.

**Ch. 1: Burning (and various references throughout)**

* * *

37) "Do you remember our first kiss?" he whispered in my ear.

I shook my head. "No, you'll have to remind me," I joked.

My husband cupped my face, and with the utmost care tilted my head up towards him. He brushed his lips against mine, and then, torturously slowly, he finally sealed his lips against mine. But just then I pulled away, smiling wickedly. Carlisle titled his head at me in confusion.

"That's not how it happened," I reprimanded him teasingly. "If memory serves me right – I kissed you." Before he could react I stood on my tiptoes and placed a kiss on his lips.

"I am not allowed to rewrite history?" my husband teased. I giggled.

"Feel free."

And so, just like I had over hundred years ago, I was once more kissed by the man I love, as a fire crackled beside us.

**Ch. 33: Fireside**

* * *

**As with after the epilogue, I'd be interested to know how many you did actually pick up on :)**


	3. Update: Doings Things Properly

**This is an updated version of Chapter 38: Doing Things Properly, where I have given more detail/ description of Esme's state of mind after her 'accident.'**

* * *

1921

_Esme_

I watched Carlisle run away from the house in utter complexion. I felt my stomach drop at the thought of being without him. Now I was no longer in his presence, the full horror of what I had done impounded on me.

_I've killed someone! I've killed someone!_ The fact shook me to my core. Before today, I would have thought it impossible, despite their many warnings on the true nature of vampires. I was not a killer. I would never murder anyone! And yet I had – that fact was indisputable.

"Esme?" Edward's worried voice brought me out of my self-pitying thoughts. "Oh, Esme," his tone was sympathetic, not the anger I deserved.

"No, no, you don't," he told me reassuringly. His attempts to comfort me caused my composure to break once more, and I began to sob.

"Where…where did Carlisle go?" I managed to ask.

"He went to…to…clean up." It took a few seconds for me to gather the true meaning behind his sugar-coated words, and once I did I only began to cry harder. My mind kept repeating everything that had happened, the man's death, my frenzied running, and Carlisle's proposal.

"Carlisle…proposed?" Edward's voice was questioning, shocked. _Not that surprising, I was shocked myself. _It was still impossible for me to imagine that he loved me, never mind wanted to marry me.

"Erm…congratulations?" Edward's words sounded forced, and the way he worded it was like he wasn't sure if he should be offering congratulations or not.

_No wonder he's confused. He's probably wondering why on Earth Carlisle would propose to a murderer. But why would he? Maybe it was just a hasty decision, designed to stop me from running off, and killing more people. Perhaps that's why he had run off – he knows now he's made the wrong decision. He doesn't love me after all, and who can blame him?_

"No, Esme, he does. If there's one thing you should be certain of it's that Carlisle definitely loves you." Edward was squinting at the tree line where his father had disappeared.

"I'm … I'm going to go inside," I told him. I needed a minute alone – even if I wouldn't be truly alone. "

It was only once I was upstairs in my bedroom that I allowed the full horror of what had occurred to wash over me. What I had done. I couldn't clear the image of the man's brutalised corpse from my mind.

Yet, even while I recoiled in horror from the image, I couldn't help but fixate on the lushness of his blood. Its aromatic scent seemed to be all around me still – so tempting and fragrant that nobody could deny themselves it.

With disgust, I realized the scent was actually emitting from me. Some of his blood was still splattered across my dress. Some animalistic instinct called on me to lick it off, to enjoy every last drop.

By the time I had processed this reaction, my sleeve was already at my mouth, my tongue quickly licking up the last few precious remaining drops of my ill-gotten treat.

Shame washed over me and yet I did not stop until I was finished.

My mind was already processing how much blood remained on the dress, and I quickly began to undress, paying no concern to the ripping of the fine garment.

"Throw it on the fire, Esme," Edward advised quietly from downstairs.

That one sentence was enough to bring me temporarily back to sanity and I acted on his order quickly before I could depart from it again.

The tatters of my dress were quickly flung onto the cold coals – for I never had a fire nowadays since learning of Carlisle's phobia.

However, it did not take me long to light it and I watched transfixed as the blue fabric slowly charred.

It had been a present from Carlisle, given to me only two days ago.

_And how thoughtfully I've shown my gratitude_, I thought despairingly

I did not want to think of Carlisle anymore, for then I would have to think about his return. The truth would no doubt of impacted on him the same way it had on me in the time since our separation, and he would realize the hastiness and stupidity of his proposal.

This morning, I would have been over the moon at the idea of being engaged to him, but now I realized the idiocy of that idea. The foolishness of the mere notion that someone like him could love someone like me.

Trying desperately to distract myself from my own thoughts, I turned my attention to the remains of my clothing. In my desperation to remove my dress, I had managed to rip my undergarments as well. Having no desire to keep their ragged remains as a reminder of what I had done today, I ripped them off and they joined the godforsaken dress on the fire.

Some still rational part of my mind recognized my very apparent need to go over to my wardrobe and dress myself once more, but I cringed away from the idea. For inside that wardrobe were any number of items of clothing that had been purchased for me by Carlisle, just like the dress that now burned in the fire with a dead man's blood on it. I had no wish to soil their clean, fresh presence with my polluted skin. Everything about me was tainted now.

The shameful act I had committed was enough to remind me of what I truly was. I was useless, a burden, a worthless piece of junk. Every insult Charles had ever thrown at me was true.

I tried to tell myself that none of what I was thinking was true, for the very last thing I wanted was to get myself into that mindset again, but every time I tried I could never even finish the thought, for I ended up reminding myself about what I had done and what it meant.

My legs had collapsed from underneath me, and I was now huddled in a ball on the floor. My arms were cuddled around my legs, pulling them as close to my chest as possible, and I dry-sobbed into my knees. I wished real tears could fall, for it seemed this was a tragedy worthy of them. I wanted my cheeks to go wet and for my eyes to become puffy. So that my now always perfect face would show my despair truly.

I felt trapped inside this body. Outwardly, I could show no sign of the imperfections that were on the inside of me.

I dragged my nails through my naked calves frenziedly, trying to leave a mark, trying to cause pain. Attacking my body because in this very moment of time I hated it more than anything.

I stopped as the image of the same calf with a large scar down it came to mind. I had cut it as a human on the corner of the coffee table in Charles' living room, as I tried to run away from him. My body had once been riddled with similar scars, that, in my lowest moments, I had considered proof that I was valueless. I could not allow myself to fall into that mindset again, I told myself once more. Yet I could fell myself slipping into it all over again. And I had no one to blame but myself this time. It was easy to foster the blame on Charles for how I had felt as a human, but I would never even attempt to try and accuse Carlisle or Edward of any fault towards me. What had happened today was undeniably all my doing.

_Maybe it was me all along then._

I tried to focus my thoughts elsewhere. I was well aware of how bizarre I must have looked: a naked, sobbing woman, crouched in a ball in the middle of her bedroom. Yet, I could not make myself get up. The grief was still coursing through me and the mere act of standing up seemed impossible under the weight of it all.

There could be no denying that I deserved this, this gut wrenching combination of disgust and anguish. My revulsion over the atrocious act of murder I had committed. My fears over losing Carlisle. I truly deserved every stab of nauseating pain, each prickle of fear and agonizing wave of grief. I was a justified recipient of them all. If Carlisle truly had left me, there could be doubt he was more than justified in doing so. I was weak, a monster, unworthy to stand at his side. What right did I have to happiness when I had taken a man's life? How could I become Carlisle's wife when another wife may have lost her husband because of me?

I had no idea how long I sat there sobbing and struggling with my own self-hatred, until I heard the door open and close downstairs, and the familiar scent of Carlisle filled my senses. _He's home, what now?_

I heard Edward's voice whispering furiously at his father, but I didn't bother to catch the words. Their heated one-ended discussion came to a close and I heard the sound of Carlisle's footfalls on the stairs.

"Esme?" his soft voice called, following the sound of his gentle knock on my door.

For a few seconds, I didn't reply. I had to get up. I had to get up, get dressed, and face Carlisle. I knew this was undeniably true and had to be done. There was no way around it. I had to face up to what I had and accept the consequences.

But I didn't want to.

"Esme?" he called again, more frantically this time.

"Wait, wait a minute," I finally managed to reply shakily.

Finally standing up, I moved to the wardrobe in a dream-like state. After the onslaught of emotion I had just experienced, I now felt numb.

I stared at the clothes for awhile, none of them seemed suitable. They were all too exquisite, too delicate and beautiful for someone as impure as me to wear.

I was acutely aware of Carlisle's presence outside my door. I shouldn't be keeping him waiting. He probably just wanted to get this conversation over and done with.

At that thought, the grief nearly overrode me once more and I had to fight off another wave of sobbing.

Forcing my attention back towards the clothes in my wardrobe, I finally settled for an old dress of mine from when I had been human, heavily darned after being worn on many of my early hunting trips. It looked shabby besides all the lovely new dresses Carlisle had purchased for me which seemed fitting enough.

I quickly threw the dress on, forgoing any sort of undergarment. What did sensibilities like that mean anymore? Monsters didn't care about corsets.

"Come in," I called unsteadily.

_Is the moment where he tells me he wants me to leave? That I don't belong here._

He opened the door cautiously, peering around it as he evaluated me.

"Are you OK?" he asked gently, and there was no denying that he sounded genuinely concerned. There was no anger. No hated or disgust. _What did I ever do to deserve a man like him?_

I nodded, unable to speak for surely I would start sobbing all over again. I didn't move from where I was stood in front of my still open wardrobe.

"Esme?" His voice betrayed the fact that he knew I was lying.

"I…I killed someone. I really killed someone," I said frantically, unable to stop my voice from quaking and my shoulders from shaking. I felt like my legs would fall from underneath me (even though that was probably impossible with my new stealthy body) and I stumbled blindly towards my bed as the sobs began once more.

"Shhhh, everything's going to be OK. It wasn't your fault." Carlisle came to sit next to me, wrapping me in his arms. It was my safe place, the place where everything felt all right. But I didn't deserve to be comforted. I didn't deserve love. Who was consoling that poor man's widow? Who would reassure his children that everything was going to OK? And how could they ever believe that person, now that their father had been cruelly taken away from them?

Unwilling to accept his delightful comfort anymore, I stood up again, leaving Carlisle sitting alone on the bed. I turned to stare out the window. My own reflection stared back at me for the first time since I had become a murderer, as I had been purposefully avoiding all reflective surfaces. My eyes, which had been an orange colour this morning, were a demonic red again. I looked away from the window, unable to look at those red eyes, glaring proof of what I had done.

"Esme?" Carlisle's voice called my name once more, but I was still unable to look at him. I settled for staring at the floor in the general direction of the bed where he was sat.

"Esme, look at me, please," he begged softly. I forced my eyes up to meet his.

Carlisle's golden eyes shone with his plea. How fitting that his diet gave him those eyes – because gold was the colour of angels. Of heavenly Good.

While my own eyes were red again – the mark of the Devil, of temptation, and sin.

It only made the contrast between the two of us more profound.

I was not – and nor had I ever been – worthy of him.

"Please, just talk to me," he begged softly. I wanted to. I wanted to walk over there and sob into his shoulder until I'd cried all the pain and the horror away. But I couldn't. Why should I get the chance to absolve my sins when there was a man dead – and a family ripped apart?

When I didn't move, he came to stand in front of me. Cupping my face gently, he whispered, "I love you."

"You shouldn't," I replied. He gave a sigh.

"But I do," he told me. "Please believe that." He kissed my forehead and then he left.

It was only after he had left I realized the fire was still burning.

He hadn't even looked at it once.

~o~ ~O~ ~o~

It had been a week since I had killed the man, and nothing felt normal in our household. It reminded me of leaving in my parents' house, strangers living under the same roof. I carried a sense of emptiness around with me, unable to get animated about anything. I would hunt, I would read in the living room, I would sew in my room, I would do all the things I used to, but I couldn't get excited about anything. Small things that had once brought me such joy now meant nothing. Maybe if I had been willing to allow myself to be happy, they would have done. But the idea of continuing to live my life as if nothing had happened sickened me. For surely if I had been able, it would have been the final sign that I truly was an unfeeling monster.

But, despite all this, I didn't want to feel the all-consuming depression either. So I tried my best to keep both out, to make myself emotionless.

The despair was a lot better at breaking down my barriers than any hapless spark of happiness was.

I barely spoke to Carlisle or Edward, unable to force small talk in my melancholy state. So I drifted around our house in silence. In many ways, I had become the empty shell of a woman I had once been, except this time it was my fault.

Carlisle tried. He tried his hardest to get me to snap out of it. But it didn't seem to matter, he could hold me close and tell me he loved me, but I couldn't allow myself to enjoy the comfort. How could I allow my lips to enjoy the joy of Carlisle's kisses, when the same lips had earlier been smeared with an innocent person's blood?

In the end, Carlisle almost seemed to give up. He would come see me before he left for work and as soon as he came back. But I was always the same. I wanted to tell him I loved him. I wanted to shout it at him. But the words caught in my throat. I didn't deserve Carlisle's love and I shouldn't try to cling onto it. He would tell me he loved me and I would look into his eyes and say nothing. I could see myself reflected in his eyes. My red eyes were dead, cold, like the monster I'd become. When I didn't reply, Carlisle would always sigh, kiss me on the cheek, and leave me to what I had been doing. I knew I was hurting him. But it was for the best. He had to learn he shouldn't love me.

Our supposed engagement had not been mentioned again.

Edward tried also, though his methods were different to Carlisle's. We would still spend the night's together while Carlisle was at the hospital. But there was none of the joviality between us as they had been. First, he had tried to cheer me up, making jokes and teasing me as we usually did. He gave up on that once he realized I was not going to allow myself to have any fun. He then tried to persuade me with argument and logic. Telling me I couldn't spend the rest of my life living like this. He stopped once I glumly pointed out he had not been the one to kill someone. From there on in Edward seemed to spend as little time as possible in our house. If Carlisle was home, then he wasn't.

~o~ ~O~ ~o~

I heard Carlisle arrive home, followed by his and Edward's usual greeting, and Edward's departure. Then there was the familiar sounds of his medical bag thumping to the floor, and his footfalls on the stairs. Then a quick knock on my door.

"Morning, Esme. Can I come in, please?"

"Yes," I replied in a monotone.

"How was your day?" Carlisle asked as he walked in.

I shrugged. "Fine."

"Esme, talk to me, please."

"I'm fine, Carlisle."

He sighed. I knew now was the point where we would give up for the morning. He surprised me by sitting on the bed.

"I'm not leaving this time, Esme. I love you. You have to speak to me. Let me help you!" he pleaded. I put my sewing down and stood up, not looking at him for it would hurt too much.

"Esme, if you've … you've changed your mind, please, just tell me." I didn't know what he meant, but the way he had spoken it broke my heart. He sounded so dejected. _You're doing that to him. This is cruel. Selfish. You're hurting him. __As if you haven't done enough already._

"Changed my mind about what?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

"About … marrying me." Guilt coursed through me at his words. He thought I had rejected him. _How could he ever think that?_

I turned my attention to him properly for the first time in a week. His usually neat blond hair was dishevelled, and the misery etched on his face meant that for once he actually could have passed for the ages he claimed. How had I not noticed that before now? I had been so caught up in my own grief I had not once thought of all the pain I had brought to Carlisle and Edward. After everything they'd done for me, it made me feel sick.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," I mumbled. Without permission, my body began to shake as giant sobs racked my body once more. I was becoming almost use to the feeling and yet it still horrified me each time I realized it me who was making that terrible sound. I felt myself slide down the wall until I was sat on the floor. Carlisle sat down next to me.

"I didn't change my mind, I didn't change my mind," I repeated the words over and over again, hoping to make him see. I loved him; I loved him more than anything in the world. The only thing that had ever been in doubt was if he was able to love me back.

_But hasn't he already proved that, silly woman. Someone who doesn't love you doesn't come and whisper it to you every morning._

My mantra changed. "I love you. I love you. I love you." I was back in my safe place, back in his arms, as he murmured soothingly to me.

"I love you, too," he whispered in my ear as my tearless crying finally ceased.

"Do you … do you really still want to marry me?" I asked disbelievingly.

"More than anything in the world."

"I'm sorry," I murmured again. "It's not that I don't love you. I do. I just, I, I was scared to let myself be happy… because, because if I did, then, then I thought, I thought it would mean I was too much of a monster to even care about what… what I had done." The words came out stammered and rushed, as I made the split second decision to tell him everything I had been keeping to myself, but the shot of relief once I had was exhilarating.

"You're not a monster, Esme," Carlisle told me softly.

"I felt like one," I admitted.

"I know you're probably fed up of me telling you this," he gave a rather forced-sounding chuckle, "but it was just an accident. You didn't wish to do so. I know you didn't. And you, you don't want to do it again." I noticed the moment of hesitancy as he said the last line.

_Can he really think I would ever wish to do so again?_

"No. No, I don't. I'm just scared. What if it does?"

"I can't promise you that it will never happen again. But I can promise that I will do everything in my power to try and stop it."

"Thank you," I whispered gratefully.

"Why, why did you think I might want to?" I blurted out. I couldn't help it. I needed to know why he seemed to have considered the idea that I might ever want to repeat the horrific crime I had experienced.

Carlisle sighed and seemed to compose himself before answering. "I know that human blood is nicer, more tempting than animal blood, especially for a newborn. I was worried that after a taste, you might want more," he admitted quietly. I most have been reading his expression wrong (despite the fact I had quickly become an expert of them) for he looked guilty when he said it.

"I did," I confessed, shame-faced. "But it's not worth it. It cost someone a life. And I thought, that it might of cost me you."

"It hasn't. Nothing ever could," he promised fervently.

Then a smile spread across his face.

"What?" I asked, surprised by his sudden change of mood.

"I have something to show you," he told me. The suddenly cheerful manner was rather off-putting following our rather solemn conversation.

He stood up of the floor where we both still sat. As he didn't let go off my hand, I stood up with him. Then, wordlessly, he led me to his office.

He let go off my hand once we arrived in the middle of his office.

"Carlisle, what are we doing?" I asked, insanely curious. I realized for the first time in over a week, I was allowing myself to feel something.

"We're doing things properly, my dear." I looked at him curiously.

"Shut your eyes and wait there," he ordered me gently. I did as he said. "No peeking," I heard his voice say. I heard the sound of one of his desk drawers opening and closing, and then his footsteps coming back towards me. After a few seconds he spoke again.

"OK, you can open your eyes now." I opened my eyes instantly and then gasped when I saw him in front of me. He was down on one knee, with a ring box in his hand. The ring inside had the biggest diamond on it I'd ever seen, but yet it still managed to have a simple elegance to it that made it truly beautiful.

"Oh, Carlisle," I breathed.

"I never thought I would be able to find someone to love, and who would love me back. But from the minute I meet you a decade ago, I knew you were special. I love you, Esme Anne Platt, I love you more than I can ever possibly say. Will you do me the honour of being my wife?"

"Yes!" I shouted. He didn't get a chance to say anything else before I flung myself at him, kissing him with all the force I had. When we finally broke about, he chuckled slightly.

"Can I put this ring on you now?" he asked jokingly. I simply smiled as he slid the ring on my left hand. I stared in amazement at it. I would get to keep it there for all of eternity. More importantly, I would get to keep the man who gave it to me for all eternity.

"I love you, too," I told him tenderly, and began kissing him yet again

And as I did so I realized I felt alive again, elated with happiness and love.

I had to move on from what had happened, accepting help from those around me who loved me, and together, we could all move on to a brighter future.

One where Carlisle and I were together always.

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**Any feedback is appreciated :)**


	4. Update: Too Funny

**Due to issues with ff(.)net , I haven't been able to post for awhile. (If anyone's having similar issues just google fanfiction(.)net error type 2 for help bypassing the error message.) So there's two updates today (if I can post them both!)**

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1938

_Emmett_

_I should have been horrified, not amused. But as I left the house, I couldn't stop myself from laughing. As I ran through the forest, I still couldn't stop the chuckles from escaping._

It was all Edward's fault anyway. If he hadn't fouled Rosalie, then I never would have been sent on a re-con mission to ask Carlisle and Esme's opinion, the only way to stop the ensuring argument between him and my wife. The fact that I actually had to go trudging back to our house five miles away to ask the opinion of two people who hadn't even witnessed the so-called foul was proof of how lowly Rosalie and Edward still thought of each other.

Every time it looked like they had finally made their peace another argument would erupt. It didn't seem to matter how I tried to persuade Rose that Eddie was a good kid overall, she couldn't outgrow over her initial hatred of him.

She was, however, finally making diminutive steps towards improving her relationship with Carlisle. She admitted to me that it had been becoming harder for her to hate him ever since he changed me for her.

But she was still unable to do the same with Edward. I knew it was the mind-reading they really got under her skin. I had to admit it could be annoying sometimes, but I knew he couldn't prevent it – that sometimes he certainly wished he could (and yes, Rose and I were mainly the reason behind those times.) But I was not embarrassed by what he heard in there. Edward once told me that I say out loud nearly everything I think. My Rose, on the other hand, liked her thoughts and feelings to be kept private, even now it could still be difficult for me to coax the truth out of her. so having to live with a mind-reader was her worst nightmare. Though we were still currently living separate from the rest of the family, we visited often. And while there was no denying the pros of living alone, it was still nice to see the others sometimes.

Except when Rosalie and Edward were arguing, obviously. Like today.

My mind was firmly back at the baseball clearing with Rosalie as I entered the house. Perhaps I should have been paying more attention to the house around me as raced through it, particularly the noises coming from upstairs.

The thunder hadn't help either.

"Carlisle. Esme," I had shouted as I walked into their room. The door crashed against the wall as I had opened it with too much force as usual. The large banging noise had mingled with Esme's high-pitched shriek. I've never seen Carlisle move as fast as he did then, removing himself from on top of her and throwing himself under the blanket. Esme had pulled the blanket over herself completely so that I couldn't even see her face. I had quick chuckled quietly at the strange scene before me, -Carlisle's sheepish expression and Esme's completely hidden body just a lump under the blanket- and my parent's obvious embarrassment. And that would have been it. I would have left and only got a slight chuckle out of the whole incident. Except that as I turned to leave a slither of lilac in the corner of my eye had caught my attention. Unable to resist my curiosity, I had turned to look at it more closer, only to realize it was Esme's bra, which was hanging from a chandelier.

The laughter had overtaken me then as I leaning against their wall, laughing away to myself. Carlisle had attempted to look at me sternly, but it is impossible to be stern when you're naked and just been walked in doing the deed. In fact, his expression only made things funnier, especially after I had pointed to his wife's undergarment and asked how that had got up there. I had thought that there couldn't possible have been anything funnier than his face at that moment, as he tried to look annoyed, yet couldn't quite hide his smile.

However, I was proved wrong ten seconds later.

I had just managed to sober up enough to turn to leave, when Esme had shouted, from underneath the blanket, "Emmett! This isn't funny! Now leave!" in her best stern motherly tone. The one that would usually have had me behaving in a second, no arguments and no messing around. However, it's hard to take a scolding seriously when it's being given by a lump under a blanket. In fact, it's just downright funny. And so I was off again, leaning against their wall and laughing, when really I should have fled in horror a few minutes previously.

Carlisle had finally managed to compose his face into his stern, fatherly look he only pulled out when he was really annoyed – one I had only managed to see once before but Edward reassured me had been turned on him a few times as well - and I had taken that as meaning it was time for my long overdue departure, still chuckling as I went.

As I remembered it all over again, I began laughing some more. I couldn't help it. It was just too funny.

"So is it a foul or not?" Rosalie asked impatiently as I re-entered the clearing.

"Dunno," I said with a shrug. "I didn't get a chance to ask." From the other side of our makeshift pitch, Edward groaned.

"Well, what did you ask them then?" Rosalie snapped, clearly annoyed by my lack of an answer.

"How Ma's bra ended up on a chandelier," I answered truthfully, and the chuckles started in again. Rosalie laughed as well, and even Edward joined in as I pictured Carlisle's horrified yet sheepishly proud expression.

And for a minute, the three of us: myself, my wife, and my little brother, just stood on our makeshift baseball pitch in the rain, the sound of our amusement mingling in with the noise of the thunderstorm as we had a good laugh at our parents' expense, all amenity forgotten.

_God, I love my family._

**Feedback would be appreciated as always :)**


	5. Update: Unclear Future

1987

_Alice_

I kept repeating the unclear visions, watching them over and over again. Something terrible was possibly going to happen to my family. Not for a long time though, the visions were still distant, hazy. Clearly there were still a lot of decisions to be made between now and then. And yet something wonderful was going to happen as well. I drew up some of the other visions I'd had today, each one of our entire family smiling and laughing joyously, even Edward, who looked the happiest I'd ever seen him. Somehow, today, a course of events had begun, but there were too many decisions that had to be made before I would see the full picture of what was going to transpire.

"Alice?" Jasper's voice brought me back to the present. "What's going on?"

"Something's started, Jazz. It's too far in the future for me to see properly. Something brilliant's going to happen, but possibly something terrible too."

"What started the visions off to begin with?" he asked. He was used to probing me about my visions by now.

"Carlisle. He's trying to decide where to take Esme on holiday. Somehow, it's important." I had been watching Carlisle swap destinations: Europe, South America, Africa, and Australia. He'd been considering everywhere. He suddenly begin to consider taking her to Asia instead. He seemed to like this idea, concentrating on its possibilities long enough for me to get a decent vision of what said possibilities were. I smiled as I watched Esme's enchanted face as she stared in awe at the majestic Taj Mahal. She sat on the bench in front of it for hours with her sketch pad, surrounded by her pencils, as she worked painstakingly to try and reproduce the beauty onto her pad. Carlisle sat by her side patiently, content just to watch his wife in her element.

"I think I may go and tell Carlisle that India seems to be the best dest-"

_The sun glittered off both the snow on the ground and Esme's face. It was the only skin she had on show and the colourful and bright twinkles contrasted with the all-black outfit she wore. Her long black dress trailed to the floor, the hem of it was wet from being dragged through the snow. Over it she wore a black jacket and black silk gloves. Her hair was turned up, and if she had been wearing a cap she would have looked like the perfect picture of a Victorian widow. Even the look on her face fit with this description. It was a look of pure devastation. _

_In her hands she clutched a bouquet of forget-me-nots._

_Silently, she began to sob. She feel to her knees oblivious to the snow, seemingly unable to control her grief. After several minutes of this heart-breaking sorrow pouring out of her she seemed to compose herself slightly. She placed the flowers onto the floor with the utmost care and then shakily she stood up again. She softly smoothed the lines of her dress out, but she was staring straight in front of her as she did, as if her mind was somewhere else entirely. She gave a little whimper and seemed on the verge of breaking down again, before taking a deep breath to compose herself once more. Her eyes drifted once more to the blue flowers that stood out so brightly in contrast to the snow._

"_Good, goodbye," she whispered tenderly, her voice quivered as she said the word. "I'll always love you." _

_She seemed to look around the space surrounding her, as if looking for someone who wasn't there._

"_All of you," she added softly._

_She closed her eyes and sighed deeply. She managed to project so much misery into just that one sound. Opening her eyes once more, she pulled the glove off of her left hand and began stroking the two rings on her third finger devotedly. Then she pulled a thin, gold chain out from under her dress, attached to it was a delicate, engraved ring that she kissed tenderly. Carlisle's wedding ring. The ring tumbled out of her hand as she began to sob once more, falling to rest against the soft black cotton of her dress where it sparkled in the sun just like her face did._

_The way her face glittered created the illusion that there were actual tears trickling down it to match the action of her desperate sobbing, which had started up again in abundance and appeared to be beyond her control._

"_I can't do this," she whispered dejected as she broke down once more. She placed her head into her hands -one gloved, the other not as its glove lay forgotten on the floor where she had dropped it. _

"_I can't be strong," she muttered into her hands desolately as she cried tearlessly into them. Suddenly, she thrust her head out of her hands, staring upwards into the sky._

"_I need you," she shouted up at the sky, pleading despairingly. "I need you back. Please. Please."_

The vision cut off as suddenly as it had begun. I sat frozen, trying to process what I had seen.

"Alice? Alice?" Jasper was frantically calling my name. I knew I had to respond soon but I didn't know what to say. How could I put into mere words the haunting image of Esme I had just seen. Or what it suggested had happened to our father.

"_All of you."_ The Esme in my vision had whispered those words so softly, so tenderly that it would have broke the hardest of hearts.

_All of us._ What had happened to us all?

"Alice!" Jasper was shouting now. "Alice!"

The door crashed open.

"What the hell has she seen?" I heard Rosalie's voice ask.

"I don't know," Jasper muttered fearfully.

"Alice? Alice, dear?" Esme was now by my side, calling my name softly. I saw in my mind once more the hauntingly beautiful widow in a snow-covered field.

_Widow._

"Alice?" Carlisle was stood by his wife, looking at me anxiously.

_Widow. Carlisle was dead._

"Alice!" Even Rosalie was panicked now.

"_All of you." All of us were dead._

"Sorry," I finally managed to snap out of my shock to reply.

"What did you see?" Jasper asked urgently.

"Noth, nothing," I stammered.

"Didn't seem like nothing," Rosalie scoffed.

"Alice, if something bad is going to happen then it's best just to tell us. We need to know," Esme told me gently. I knew I couldn't do that. There was no need to worry her over a future that would not happen. I had visions all the time that did not come true – someone changed their mind, a different decision was undertaken, and their path changed.

This vision would be one of them. I had changed the course of people's lives before using my visions (including my own and Jasper's) and I would do it again now.

There was no other alternative. This was one vision that could not be allowed to come true.

I faked a smile. "You know how temperamental my visions are. It's changed now. Nothing to worry about."

Rosalie looked at me sceptically, as did Carlisle and Esme, though they did at least seem to be trying to hide it. I thanked my lucky stars that Edward was out hunting with Emmett.

Jasper was watching me carefully. I would have to tell him the truth, no doubt. I actually felt relieved by this realization, I wouldn't have to deal with this on my own.

"Are you sure?" Carlisle asked cautiously.

I nodded. "I know my own visions, Carlisle," I joked cheerfully. This forced cheerfulness seemed to relax all three of them.

"In that case I'm going back to watching my show," Rosalie announced before leaving the room.

"Well, if you're sure you're okay, Alice, I'll get back to my planting," Esme said, looking at me worryingly.

"I'm fine," I reassured her.

She kissed me gently on the head before leaving the room, Carlisle following her. I couldn't help but remember her grief-stricken face from my vision as I watched the pair of them leave.

I turned my attention back to my husband, who was rubbing his throat as he often did when he needed to hunt badly.

"Would you mind coming for a quick hunt with me, darlin'?" he asked quietly. I knew he really wanted to go and talk out of our family's earshot, and he knew that I knew.

"Of course," I replied softly. Without further ado we made our way quickly and quietly downstairs and out the backdoor. Our back garden backed straight onto the forest for this very purpose.

I heard Esme giggle as we entered the garden. She was sat in her hand and knees in the dirt tending to her flowers. Carlisle, who had given up on his holiday searching for now, was sat on the grass beside her, teasing her lovingly. They both waved at us as we entered the garden before turning their attention back to the flowerbed.

"So what are we planting this year?" Carlisle asked her. I tuned out as Esme begin listing flowers. Her voice carried on the wind as we entered the outskirts of the forest and I came to a sudden halt when she said,

"And forget-me-nots, of course."

The blue flowers that stood out so well on the snowy ground they'd been placed on flashed into my mind.

"My favourite," Carlisle replied happily. "A flower that stands for true love."

"And remembrance," Esme added. "I still stick with the fact they stand for truly loving the dead, which makes this whole thing a little morbid." I could tell from her tone that she was teasing him. This seemed to be a conversation they'd had before.

"Technically dear, you are dead," Carlisle replied. Esme had no comeback but I could imagine fully well the glare she giving him without looking into a vision.

"OK, OK, I just think they're pretty," Carlisle admitted causing Esme to laugh merrily.

"Truly loving the dead," I murmured to myself.

"_I'll always love you_." That was what the Esme in my vision had said as she laid the flowers on the ground.

"Alice, what's going on?" Jasper asked cautiously. I nodded my head into the forest to indicate we should move further away from the house.

We ran a minute longer until I came to a halt. Jasper looked at me expectantly, though I could see the concern that was clear in his eyes too. I had no doubt my emotions had been worrying him none stop for the last ten minutes.

"Alice, what did you see?" he asked once more.

"I saw Esme as a widow," I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper.

"A widow?" Jasper repeated unbelievingly. "What, what happened to Carlisle?"

I shook my head, clueless. I couldn't see the link. I thought about the other visions I'd had today. Some of them had had a similar feel to them, of loss and devastation, but they had been too blurry to understand. And they contrasted completely with the other blurry visions I'd had, of happiness and celebration. Something, someone, some decision, somewhere in the distant future, could either bring us untold joy or great sorrow.

"Does something happen in India?" Jasper asked. While I had been lost in my earlier visions, he had been thinking things through logically. The vision of the widowed Esme had been triggered when I decided to tell Carlisle to go to India.

"No," I told Jasper. "It's not for a long time yet. There's no certainty. Too many decisions between now and then can change. We have to make the right ones. If we do, something great, something unbelievable is going to happen."

"Like what?" he asked curiously.

I chuckled. "I wish I could tell you. But you of all people know how much of an inexact science this is. Just visions of our family happy, that's all I'm getting. Something is happening or going to happen soon. Something is falling into place right now and how it turns out seems to mean the difference between all our family celebrating or Esme grieving for us all."

"For us all?" Jasper questioned.

"That's what she said," I told him sadly. "Goodbye. I'll always love you. All of you," I repeated. My monotonous re-telling in no way showed the grief and horror behind those three little sentences the way Esme's loving murmurings had.

"We need to think about possible triggers," Jasper remarked, getting into his strategic mode. This was how Jasper dealt with problems, with logic and thought, trying to ignore the emotions behind them. Which I always told him was rather ironic for an empath.

"The only real decisions I've been watching today is Carlisle trying to choose holiday destinations. I don't see how that can make such a difference," I told him. "Though it would help if he could make his mind up long enough for to actually see how each destination turns out," I muttered in frustration.

"Surely there's something else," Jasper insisted.

I sighed exasperatedly.

Just then, almost as if by command, another vision hit.

"_She's beautiful." The young woman held her tiny bundle close to her. __She didn't look like she was old enough to be a mother. She appeared barely out of her teens, and, despite the fact she appeared to have a child herself, there was still a child-like aura surrounding her, from her wild curls to her wide, trusting eyes._

_The man beside her looked at the baby __and the__ love and adoration __he had for the girl was__ obvious in his eyes._

"_That she is, Renee. That she is. Our daughter, can you believe it?" He gently kissed the baby's forehead, and then her mother. Renee shook her head in disbelief in answer to his question._

"_It's hard to believe we created something so perfect," she murmured. "We need a name. I still like-"_

"_No," her husband cut her off, even though he was laughing. "Absolutely not. A girl this beautiful deserves a beautiful name." He thought for a moment. "Beautiful," he murmured. "I have an idea."_

"Alice?" Once more Jasper was calling my name and I pulled myself out of the vision.

"It makes no sense," I complained, unable to hid my frustration.

"What'd you see this time, darlin'?" Jasper asked.

I flopped down onto the grass in exasperation and he sat down beside me, hugging me close to him.

"A baby girl. A human baby girl. And I'm certain, I'm certain she has something to do with the rest of it. But what, what can a human baby have to do with our family, and our possible happiness and/or deaths, and Carlisle and Esme's bloody holiday?"

Having left Esme to her gardening, Carlisle had once more returned to searching through holiday brochures. I would have laughed at the fact he had a flower still stuck through his hair, no doubt placed there by Esme, except it was a blue forget-me-not, and the colour stuck out in the light blond of his hair the same way it did against the white of snow.

I focused once more on Carlisle's destination choices – he had narrowed it down to either Europe or Africa, but that still left him with many, many different choices.

"I really wish Carlisle could stick with a decision long enough to actually let me see the visions attached to it properly," I muttered again in frustration.

"Well, apparently you deciding where to tell him to go caused you to have a proper vision," Jasper commented. "You could try it again to see if you can see the side-effects of each decision better," he suggested.

"Worth a try, I suppose," I agreed, half-heartened. It never seemed to work that well when I tried to bend my visions to my own will. Often I was shown things I didn't understand at the time or supposedly random things, but I believed that my visions almost had a will of their own, showing me things that I needed to see. The main component behind that belief was of course the fact that my visions had led me to Jasper and my family.

Much to my surprise, Jasper's method seemed to work. As Carlisle debated each country, I decided I would go tell him to take Esme there. The first three countries I was greeted with the same haunting image of Esme in mourning.

"That's it," I shouted as I watched the vision for their trip to Ireland play out. Though I still didn't understand how it all linked up or why it was going to have such a big impact on our lives, I now knew what outcome I was looking to achieve. I explained it quickly to Jasper and then continued to go through Carlisle's list of possible countries in the same way till I had the three that he and Esme had to go to so as to somehow prevent a future catastrophe.

"England, Ireland, and Egypt," I told Carlisle, going straight up to his office as soon as we arrived home. He smiled gratefully at me.

"Thanks, Alice. I take it that's where Esme enjoys best?" I had to resist the temptation to roll my eyes. _Esme enjoys herself no matter where you take her. You could take her to a nuclear wasteland and she'd still enjoy herself if she was with you. _Of course, I didn't say any of that out loud thought. I simply nodded, smiled, and left the room.

I thought once more of the human baby girl. I had no idea why I had seen her, only that she must one day become important to me. For that was why my visions showed random people to me, just like they had with Jasper and the Cullens.

As I went back to my room and allowed myself to relax into my husband's embrace, I thought about how it was no use being psychic when the future was so undecided, and comforted myself with the thought that'd I done all I could for now. Hopefully, I had prevented the tragic future I had foreseen. I tried to shake the image of the grieving Esme out of my head, and told myself I would not think of it again. It had been prevented. It won't happen, I told myself forcefully. Also, there was no need to worry Edward once he got home.

Then I wondered once again who that baby would grow to be, and why she would have such a profound effect on my family.


	6. Update: Carlisle's Early Years

**Updated versions of the first four chapters. Enjoy!**

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**Chapter 1: Burning**

1663

_Carlisle_

Snap. Crackle. I recognized with disturbing ease the sounds of a fire. The scent of burning filled my nostrils as the smoke filled my lungs. The scent that followed was worse, the rotten stench of singed human flesh. Unable to prevent myself, I began to cough, as the cloying scent choked me. I knew I wasn't suppose to react like this, that my father wished him to stand there cold and stony like him.

Who was being burned this time? Who had my father condemned to die this horrendous, torturous death now?

I tried to look for the bonfire but the smoke surrounding me was too dense.

Instead, I tried to listen for the sound of screams, so that I could follow the sound to its source. To which ever pitiful, luckless person was producing them.

But aside from the fire, there was silence.

I was unnerved now, I felt my heart begin to speed up. A feeling of unease spread throughout me. This wasn't how things played out. I had witnessed this scene enough times to know this wasn't how it was supposed to be. Where were the screams? Where was the heckling, sneering crowd? With their faces full of hatred and condemnation, whipped into a religious fervour for all the wrong reasons.

And where was the fire that all this smoke was coming from?

The menacing crackling of the fire I still could not locate grew in volume, surrounding me.

And then suddenly, with horrified realization, I knew exactly where the bonfire had been lit.

The pain hit me in that instant. A pain so intense it was unlike anything I had ever experienced. I tried to look down, to see my feet as they burned, to see the flames lit beneath me, but I could not. I was tied rigidly to this post, unable to move, unable to escape.

But still I tried. I tried with all my might to fight against the bonds. Desperately seeking relief from the torture that overtook my lower body.

The silence ended then. I could hear the crowd heckling me now, booing and shouting insults.

"Devil!"

"Demon!"

"Heretic!"

Through the smoky haze, I saw my father, watching on uncaringly.

I realized I had started to scream. Blood-curdling screams. Screams of desperation. The screams of a man being tortured as the unbearable move began to move up my legs.

With a sudden jolt, I sat up out of my bed. My breathing came heavily and my heart still raced as I tried to calm myself.

_Just a dream. Just the nightmare again._

In the bed beside mine, my father grumbled in his sleep and turned over, but luckily did not wake up.

The night around me was silent. The rest of London was obviously asleep.

I could still smell smoke and burning flesh. It was a scent ingrained in my memory that I was unable to shake. I took a deep breath to fill my nostrils with fresh air but I couldn't rid myself of the nauseating stench that seemed to cling to me still, even here in my bed.

_There'll be no more burnings_, I reminded myself forcefully.

Recently my father's health had been falling into low repair. He still managed to find the strength to deliver his daily fiery sermons from the pulpit, but all his other duties had been taken over by me, including the trails of the accused. Since I had taken over the number of people found guilty had dropped dramatically. I had already seen too many innocent people burnt at my father's orders and then been forced to watch as they burned, listening as their pitiful screams filled the air, while the fire consumed their bodies.

'A dutiful son', that's what everyone calls me. 'A dutiful son following in his father's footsteps.' The people of the congregation always used that sentence with pride, as though I could do nothing better with my life. As though this was what I was always destined to become and nothing more.

I come from a clerical family. My grandfather, Carlisle (my namesake) had also been the pastor of this parish. My oldest Uncle, also called Carlisle, had always been the one who was due to follow in his footsteps, until he died of typhus at the age of sixteen. At which point, my father, John, was hastily trained in how to preach as his father did.

My grandfather died two years before my birth, but as a child my father was keen on telling me stories of his own father. It was my grandfather's supposed last words that have always stuck with me.

'Cure the world of evil, son,' he ordered my father on his deathbed. An order my father follows zealously to this day, if in a way I do not approve of.

That is why I worry when people referring to me as 'following in my father's footsteps.' I do not wish to do as he did and religiously follow a dead man's beliefs. I want to follow my own instincts. My own mind and heart. The very same mind that tells me that so many of the people who are killed by him are innocent. The same heart that pities their wretched souls.

I didn't wish to follow in his footsteps, and pursue those who were innocent. Those who were guilty of nothing more than being a little different or ill. Or of being a different religion to us. For were we not all human? And does this Bible not tell us to love thy neighbour? My father and I interpreted the holy text very differently. For were I saw God's forgiveness, he saw God's vengeance.

I shook my head in frustration at myself. Thinking all this through yet again was not productive when it came to the matter of falling back asleep.

I settled down once more in my fitful attempt to sleep, tossing this way and that in an attempt to get comfy. But, no matter what I did, every time I shut my eyes I saw the bright light of a burning bonfire. I heard a tortured scream. This time, I saw the little girl's tortured face.

There was one particular execution I would never forget. She was a child of five, an orphan off the mean streets of London. They had said the devil spoke to her, possessed her. That she was a 'devil child'. I had only been six at the time myself; just old enough to begin to understand what my father did. I had watched from my father's side as they dragged her to the stake and bound her. It wasn't the first time I had watched the burnings, but it was the first time I failed to understand why it was happening. All the others had been simple for me to understand; they had been condemned as evil, therefore they must die. But she had seen so helpless, so fragile. Certainly not something to be feared.

_She is a mere child like me; surely they can not intend to kill her,_ I remember thinking in my youthful naivety.

"Father, what are they doing to that girl?" I had asked.

"She is a devil child, boy, she must burn for her sins," he had replied coldly.

"They will burn her?"

"Of course."

"But she is only a child like me."

"She is a possessed child. She is tainted with the devil. She must die." He had spoke with an air of finality. But in my youthfulness, I had been determined to keep asking, to try to understand.

"But-" I never got to finish my sentence, as my father had struck me across the back of the head.

"Do not argue, boy. Do not have sympathy for those who cooperate with the devil. If a child is corrupted, then they must die. There is no consideration for those who choose to taint themselves with the stain of evil and ungodliness."

"But how do you know she is guilty?" I had asked with child-like innocence.

"Be quiet, boy." It was a direct order and I had not dared to disobey it. I had watched in disgusted fascination as they had let the flames at her feet, but as soon as her screams began, I could take no more. I had turned to leave, but my father had stopped me.

"Watch it, boy, watch what happens to the sinners of this world."

"But, father, what sin has she committed?" Naïve as it was, my child's mind had not been able to understand what crime a child so young could have committed.

"Shut up, boy, and watch. She is a cursed child. A sympathiser of the devil. This is what happens to those who turn their back on God." So I had been forced to watch as the girl slowly burned. To this day I have never been able to forget the anguished look on her face, or her screams that filled the square.

I received many thrashings from my father throughout my childhood, but the one I got that night was the worst of them all. Afterwards he had told me that if I ever acted in such a way again people would start considering me a 'devil sympathiser', and that if I wasn't careful it would be me they bound up and tied to the stake.

And that was why I never said anything as those that I knew to be innocent were killed for their supposed crimes against God.

I'm not certain how soon afterwards the nightmares started.

Finally abandoning any attempt to sleep, I thrust the covers back angrily. Standing up quietly, I grabbed my shoes from being my bedside and stole out the door, being careful to make barely any sound. Stopping only to pick up a candle which a lit on the dying embers of the fire, I crept through the kitchen and out the back door in a similar manner, only allow myself to walk without giving thought to the sound of my footsteps once I was out of our backyard and walking down our street. They became quick, hurried footsteps to get me away from the house as swiftly as possible.

At the end of the street, I turned to look at the spires of my father's Church. It looked like such a quaint little building when it was bathed in moonlight, like what it was a suppose to be – a place to honour the glory of God's creation.

I knew it was foolhardy and risky to walk around London at such a time, yet whenever my nightmares kept me awake and I felt restless in my bed, it was what I did. There was a certain peace to London at this time a night, early in the morning when even the drunkards and beggars had succumbed to sleep.

These were the streets I knew so well, by both light and dark. The houses of my father's parish.

As I wondered aimlessly, I focused my mind on what I had to do now that I was in charge, rather than what had gone on in the past.

I had tried, in the last half a year since I had taken over from my father, to be more selective in whom we damned. So far I had refused to send anyone to be burned. My father had watched with ill-disguised disgust as I continually refused to condemn those that his parish claimed were guilty.

Up until now I had never been willing to speak out against the burnings, even while in my heart I knew the people were innocent, due to the fear of being burned that my father had instilled in me that day many years ago.

Once someone had been accused, they were beyond help. Getting myself accused alongside them would be a pointless exercise, or so I had told myself. To ignore it made me feel dirty, like a weakling, but what else could I do back then?

_I may not have been able to stop him from burning people. But I have seen enough innocent people die, to know that I never want to be the one who gives the order which condemns them to a slow and painful death._

I was pulled from my troublesome thoughts by a blood-curdling scream. I ran hurriedly through the streets for its source, in the direction I thought the sound had come from.

I knew this was dangerous, that I was probably about to be embroiled in a situation it would be better to avoid – most likely a murder, for the scream had been the last desperate cry of a dying man. Yet I couldn't fight my desire to help, whatever the consequences might be.

As I ran I waved the candle around frantically to shed light onto the deserted streets, though dawn would break soon there was still not enough light to see adequately.

Eventually I reached the bank of the Thames. Bending down over the wall, I held the candle so as to light up the sandy bank below me. All I could see was just the usual mess of rubbish that always littered the banks of the Thames.

My common sense told me it was time to go home, yet curiosity got the better of me. Recklessly, I jumped the long distance down to the sand below, landing too heavily so that I nearly fell.

The candle had gone out by now and I dropped its remains on to the bank, but there was enough light to see here as I was in the shade of the houses.

I scanned the banks once more and my attention was drawn to a lump laying in the shallow waters, which I walked over to investigate.

It was a man's body.

He was clearly dead. His face was frozen in a state of pure terror, his mouth still open from where it had framed his last terrified scream.

Though the water had washed away the majority of the blood, the large flesh wound in his neck was still obvious. I couldn't help but stare at it in horrified shock for a few moments. It looked as though the man had been attacked by a large animal, but how had that happened in London? Somehow, my first thought of murder still seemed more likely, but what act of murder would leave a wound like that? It was not a knife wound or a gunshot wound. It looked as though the person had been bitten to death. But who would commit such an atrocious crime?

Involuntarily, I shivered. Clearly, we were dealing with an unprecedented level of evil here. My father's talk of curses and witchcraft suddenly made a lot more sense, for what other than a creature of a Satan could commit such an act?

A low growl sounded from nearby.

My heart sped up and I looked around wildly. Whatever it was, it was about to kill me too. I began to pray silently and desperately. Even though dying was when you entered God's kingdom, I still had no desire to do so. I clung desperately to my desire to live, my eyes still wildly searching for the source of my impending death.

I saw him only for a few seconds, but it felt like much longer. He was clearly a demon. All I saw was pale skin and red eyes. Then he was gone.

I stood there for a few more seconds until my mind begin to work again. Then I ran. I ran the fastest I ever had in the opposite direction to where the demon had stood. Scrambling up the first flight of stairs of the bank and then through the rat-run of streets. Once I arrived at the Church a frantically thrust my key into the lock to open it.

Once inside, I collapsed to my knees by the altar and prayed for guidance. There was a demon, a true demon, here in the heart of London, and I knew I had to stop it.

For the past years of my life, I had been researching demons as I wanted to chase true fiends when I took over, not the false demons my father did. To purge the world of true evils. To be true to my faith and my father, whilst not having to turn on my fellow man.

Now I had that chance. I was certain I had seen a true immortal on the banks of the River Thames. From the marks on the murdered man's body, I could guess at what the creature was. A bloodsucking fiend. A vampire. I could only assume the reason for my survival was the break of dawn.

I could do the Lord's work and not condemn the innocent, as I had wished to be able to do for so long. But I would have to have the strength to do so and so I prayed for it.

"Carlisle?" Father's voice rang through the Church.

Hurriedly, I stood up from the floor. I turned to face the door just as Father walked in.

"Art thou sick?" he asked instantly and for a fleeting second a look of panic overtook his face.

I shook my head. No.

"What is wrong with thou then?" I shook my head again, still unable to form words.

He scanned my face quizzically.

"Something has happened," he stated matter-of-factly. No doubt my shock was still plain on my face. "Out with it!"

"I saw a demon," I finally managed to whisper. Father's face whitened with shock.

"A demon?" he whispered.

"On the banks of the Thames, near the entrance to the sewers."

"And what will thou do?" he asked me questioningly. He was turning this into a test and I was determined not to fail.

I took a deep breath before answering. "I shall catch it and shall rid London of it. We do not want _true_ demons loose in our fair city." I couldn't help the last sarcastic comment that slid of my tongue.

My father surprised me with his response. "Perhaps you will succeed in your chosen path yet, my son." It was the closest thing to a compliment he had ever given me. Without another word, he walked past me and towards the alter.

He stopped just a few steps away and his body trembled with the strength of his hacking coughs.

"Father, it is too cold in the Church. Go back inside, I shall set up for your sermon."

"I am too sick to give my sermon today, you shall have to do it. You will need men from the parish to help you catch this demon, this is the opportunity to get their support."

I was speechless, even when I had begun to take over from him, Father had never let me actually preach before.

He turned to leave before I had a chance to reply. As he walked past me I noticed how much worse he looked, his face was worn and weary. He did not look like the man I feared at that moment, but just a worn-down pitiful old man.

"Thank you, Father," I replied.

~o~ ~O~ ~o~

I led the small group of townspeople towards the sewers, where I was certain I had seen the demon emerge two days earlier. They followed me through the narrow streets of London, fires and stakes at hand.

My sermon had been a success and the majority of the able-bodied men in the congregation had been more than willing to join me in the capturing of a 'true evil', as I had called it. The dispute between my father and me over the innocence of his victims was well-known to these people, even if it was very seldom mentioned due to propriety. Therefore they knew that when I was the one calling for the hunt there was no dispute over whether we were searching for a creature of Satan or not. I had no doubts about what I had seen. It was no human we hunted now as had happened so many times before.

I thought once more about the demon we hunted. With its death I could achieve two things. I could help protect the innocent by showing these God-fearing people what a true demon looked like, and also, perhaps, finally, earn my father's approval. Stop being his nuisance son who had never done anything but kill his wife. It should not have mattered to me, yet it still did. Up until two days ago, I had never received anything even like approval from him. Maybe that could all change tonight.

As I continued to lead the small group through the winding streets of London, I considered once more my father's particular branch of justice. In leading this hunt he seemed to think I was truly following in his footsteps for the first time. I did not bother to diverge him of this idea. For what harm did it do, to give a sick man some comfort? I knew what I was doing was different to what he had done, if it pleased him to think I was copying him then let him be. I knew in my heart that I never truly would and yet I couldn't help but find joy at the idea that he may be truly proud of me for once.

I led the group towards the bank of the Thames.

_Will it show this time?_

If it truly was a blood-sucker, it would probably be drawn out by our presence. No doubt it was my blood that had enticed it towards me first time round.

My heart was racing as I remembered my first encounter with it. But I was ready for it this time, I tried to convince myself. Every nerve on my body was alive; in my right hand I nervously spun the wooden stake I would use to kill the creature.

We were nearing the stairs I had fled in terror up two days previously when I thought I saw a flash of movement at the entrance.

_Wasn't so difficult to draw it out then, _I celebrated.

It moved so quick I was lucky to have seen it; I don't think anyone else in the group had, but I knew what to look for.

It had disappeared up a side street. I ran at my full speed in the same direction, leaving the rest of the group behind me. Coming to a stop in the middle of the street, I looked around wildly, looking for some clue as to where the demon had gone.

Suddenly, it emerged from an alley that came off of the street I was stood in. I just had time to notice the pale skin and the demonic red eyes once more, before it attacked me. I was pushed roughly onto the floor and my head hit the cobblestones painfully. I felt the creature's mouth clamp down on my neck and could feel its treacherous breath against my skin, and then there was a piercing pain as it bit down and began to drink my blood greedily. I tried in vain to break free of the creature's grasp, squirming and pushing against its hold, but it was to no avail. As I remembered the stake in my hand, I swung wildly in the direction of the creature. I thought I heard a sound that could almost have been a gargled chuckle.

_How dare it! It laughs at me while it is killing me._

For surely I would die now. I thought of my life, and how little I had achieved with it.

_I should have stood up for what I believed in __sooner__. Should have refused to watch on while innocents were killed._

But it was too late for that now. Those thoughts were nothing more than empty regrets.

_Would I make it into Heaven? If I did, would it be the merciful God I had always secretly imagined who would greet me there? The one who wanted to look after the innocent and weak? And if so, would he turn me away for my failure to protect those less fortunate? Or would it be the vengeful God my father preached about? If so, would he turn me away for my belief that those that my father had condemned should have been spared?_

Somewhere in the back of my mind, I registered the sound of footsteps growing closer. With a sickening jolt to the stomach, I realized it most be the rest of the group. I wanted to shout at them to run but was in so much pain that all I could do was scream.

I felt the creature pull away from my neck and disappear from my side, but the searing pain didn't decrease.

In fact, it began to spread, to become unbearable as it spread further down my neck and into the rest of my limbs. Realisation dawned on me.

_I am not going to die tonight. I am going to be damned instead._

_Oh mighty Lord, hear my prayer. I pray to thee to deliver me death. Amen._

The prayer was all I could think of as the pain engulfed my body. I would rather die than be damned.

_How will Father react if they tell him of my death? Will he grieve for me? Even if knew what really happened? __What would he think if he were to find me?_

He would order me to be burned, without a doubt. It was that thought that motivated me to move. To fight through the pain, and to attempt to drag myself from the middle of the street, where someone would surely find me soon enough if I stayed. I forced my mouth to clamp shut, so that no more screams should give away my position. I could only assume the rest of my group were dead by now. That thought stabbed through me like a knife.

_In my vanity and stupidity, I led them to their deaths._

However, preferable they were all dead and with God now, then in my position, so close to the brink of damnation.

Yet even as I thought about how death was better than damnation, I still dragged myself along the cobbles in my desperate attempt to find some cover.

Ever since that day seventeen years ago, when my father had first mentioned that if I continued to show sympathy for the condemned then I to would burn, I had been determined to not die at the stake. Even now, when I wished to die, I would not have my life end in those fires. It was this determination that allowed me to drag myself across the street, and drop myself down the stairs into a nearby cellar. Seeing a pile of potatoes, I forced myself under them. It was excruciatingly painful to force my body to move and to stay quiet at the same time, when all I wanted was to lay still and scream till it stopped. But still I made sure every part of me was covered before I gave in to the raging pain within me.

This only made things worse as I was now fully concentrating on the pain. I was unable to move anymore though, it was so severe. It felt like how I had always imagined being set alight would feel, except in my nightmares the pain was never this intense.

In my desperation to avoid the fires of the stake, I had managed to bring them upon myself anyway.

_And I have condemned myself too._

It was out of my control now though, in the hands of God, or the devil, or whoever currently held my life in his grasp.

I could do nothing more but try not to scream, as the fire engulfed me.

**Chapter 2: Sunrise**

1663

_Carlisle_

The burning was finally receding, but that thought brought me little relief. I could only assume that once the fire was over, my transformation into a demon would be complete.

_Will I become no better than the fiend who attacked me? Will I attack innocent people for their … their blood? _The thought disgusted me. I tried to imagine myself attacking someone and draining him or her of their blood, but it was an unthinkable thought.

_Surely, I could never do that._

But would I have a choice given what I was now in the process of becoming?

_A blood drinker. A vamp … vamp …_ I couldn't bring myself to finish the thought. I just couldn't envision myself as such a creature, and yet I knew that was what I would be when I resurfaced.

As the last of the fire cooled, and I felt my heart stop, I made a promise to myself. I would not kill anybody. There was only one foreseeable way to keep this promise.

_I have to destroy myself._

It was the only acceptable option available to me. I would not live the rest of my life as a cold-hearted murderer of innocents.

Slowly, and without opening my eyes as I could not bear to see myself, I stood up from under the potatoes. As they fell off me and dropped onto the floor, the sickening smell of rotten potatoes lessened in my nose. The scent had been overwhelming, much stronger than I ever remembered it being beforehand.

_Before I… _I couldn't finish the thought. I knew denial would get me nowhere and yet it was so comforting to cling to it. To try and tell myself that maybe, just maybe, everything would turn out alright in the end. That the fires had served a different purpose, were just a short test of my faith, and nothing else had happened. That I was still human.

_But my heart stopped…_

Maybe I was dead instead and now the fire had stopped I was allowed to enter Heaven. Maybe the Catholics had been right after all and there was such a thing as purgatory and that was why I had suffered through the fires.

Any of those ideas were more comforting than having to face the most likely option.

As the stench of the potatoes receded from my nostrils, it was replaced with a aroma much more tempting. My mouth watered at the scent, except I realised the substance filling my mouth was no longer salvia. I did not even want to consider what it actually was. My throat, which was the only part of me still burning, burnt hotter then ever. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I recognised the sound of several heartbeats, as well as a set of footsteps, which were walking closer towards where I was stood. Another part of my mind recognized that this was not right, that I should not be able to hear such sounds with such clarity from this distance.

The tempting scent was become closer as well, pulling me forwards automatically. My eyes flickered open on their own accord and I saw for the first time the cellar I had hidden in. It was non-descript, dark and damp, full of old boxes and crate. The only noticeable feature was the pile of potatoes littering the floor. Yet, despite the plainness, of the scene, it was the brightest and most colourful place I had ever seen.

My mind processed all this in under a second, while it had been doing so my feet had moved me of their own accord to the only door that exited the place. In the next second, I was up the stairs. My movements were not being coherently thought through, my body was acting on its own accord and to fulfil its own desires.

"Susanna, come back, if thou art going down to the cellar, take this down for me," a sharp voice rang through the room from somewhere above me.

"Yes, mama," a little girl replied, her voice was sweet and gentle.

The footsteps started heading away from me, presumably they belonged to the girl whose voice I had just heard, and she had turned around per her mother's request.

My hand was now on the door handle, the door half-open. As the girl's footsteps grew fainter so did the trace of her perfume, or whatever it was, that was so strong and called to me. With it gone, I was able to regain some control over my thoughts.

There could be no more denial now. I was not human anymore. The evidence was too substantial. I was creature of the Devil. I was a demon. A blood-sucker.

_Blood!_ Was it that which I sensed of the young girl? Was that why it called to me? Why the mere presence of its aroma caused my throat to burn so excruciatingly that I could not fight my desire to cool it. It stung too much, I could not cope. I would have to cool it soon.

_By killing! _I reminded myself, outraged. My throat prickled against me in response, reminding me of what it needed. How it could so easily be made content once the girl returned.

_The girl! A young girl! If __I am here when s__he __returns I will__ surely kill her! _

Even while my mind recoiled in disgust, my body produced more of the liquid in my mouth and my throat burned even rawer, informing me yet again of my new body's eagerness for her death.

The scent of her blood still lingered in the air, though it was not as strong as it had been earlier. My throat continued to burn undeniably and all I could think of was that I had to cool it. It was intolerable, I could not fight its need.

_No! No! No! I will not kill._!

I did the only thing I could think of doing. I fled. Fled into the streets of London, knowing I could not be in that cellar when that girl arrived, for I would surely kill her. I

t took all the self-control I was still clinging to desperately to force myself to run from the promised delight when the girl returned.

_No! No! No! Not a delight! Murder! A sin! A crime! An act of unforgivable cruelness.!_

It was sheer luck that it appeared to be the middle of the night, so late into the night that it was in fact quite probably several hours into the morning. The same time of day I had once so frequently wondered London during, though I did not recognize any of the streets. Somehow, in such a short amount of time, I had managed to flee my father's parish.

_And I must never return._

There could be no denying that fact. For my father would no doubt have me killed.

_Yet did I not just promise myself I would make sure exactly that happened?_

If I had promised myself I most die, then why not return? If anyone would make sure a demon like me died it was my father. And wasn't that what I wanted? I did not want to live this cursed life.

_But he will burn you at the stake._

I did not tremble or shiver at that thought as I usually would have, this body no doubt would not allow me to do something as human as that. But I still felt the moment of fear.

There was no reason to involve my father is my desire to die. No doubt I would take the poor ill man over the edge if I did, which would as good as kill him, sick as he was.

_If I did not do so first._ The dark thought scared me and yet I could not argue against its truth, as much as I desired to do so. Father was human. His blood would no doubt be as enticing as the young girl's had been. If I were to go near him I would no doubt kill him. And the entire congregation while I was at it most likely.

_I will not kill_, I reminded myself once more. To my utter most disgust, my new body had tingled with delight at the thought of killing my father and his entire congregation.

I resumed my running, determined to be beyond the limits of London as soon as possible. Luckily, just as they had been when I partook in my night time wonderings, the streets were deserted. It was that time of night I used to love, when even the rowdiest of London's inhabitants were at rest. I dread to think what would have happened had I appeared hours earlier, when the streets would still have been filled with drunkards and scoundrels. Perhaps not innocents, but I would not have wished to kill them all the same. After all, killing a drunkard is still murder.

By nothing more than luck, I did not encounter another living soul.

_Though actually, I am not one of them any more –__a 'living soul', _I reminded myself. I was neither alive nor had a soul anymore. For no creature such as myself could still be considered one of God's creations, and therefore my soul most have been ripped from me while I transformed into the demon I now was.

All around me, I could hear the heartbeats of the sleeping. And the alluring scent - the scent I quickly established was that of humans and their mouth-wateringly tempting blood - was all around me. Intoxicating me. Every minute I spent in London I knew was another minute where lives were at risk.

So, despite my body's outraged protests, I kept running. I noticed how fast the world was flying past me. The houses should have been blurry and yet my newly enhanced sight meant everything was still crystal clear to me. I would have marvelled in its magnificence if it was not a side-effect of becoming a demon. Proof that I was undeniably no longer human.

Within a short while I was out of the city limits.

_How had I travelled so fast?_

I soon realized it was just another of my new body's abnormalities like the heightened senses of smell, sound, and sight.

Finally, I stopped in a field, I had no idea where I was except that I had left London safely behind me. Somewhere in the distance, I noticed a lone farmhouse, but it was too far away for me to be tempted by its occupants. Looking eastwards, I noted the purple and red hues to the sky. If everything I had researched about vampires - for I realised I had to face that was what I clearly now was - was true, it did not matter that I was near humans, for as soon as the sun rose I would no longer pose a risk to them. Wasn't that why the demon had let me be the first time he saw me? Because of the impending dawn and the risk it posed to him.

The irony did not escape me. I had wanted to escape being burned at the stake, but instead I'd had to endure the fires that transformed me, was tormented by the dry ache in my throat and, in the end of it all, would be burned out of existence by the sun.

Under other circumstances the dawn breaking over the English countryside would have been a delightful sight; especially with the improved vision my … condition seemed to have given me. But I was in no mood to appreciate it, as I waited numbly for the end.

However, as the first of the sunrays lit the fields with a glorious glow, I did not burn, nor feel no pain. Instead, as the sunlight hit my skin, it was reflected back, glittering in a way that would put the most precious of jewels to shame. Every colour of the rainbow was there in my skin, visible only when the light hit.

I stared in horror at the unnaturalness of what was apparently my hand, terrified by the skin, the body, that did not belong to me. But despite my disgust, I could not look away; the beauty of it, the many sparkling colours, entranced me. I flipped my right hand over several times in quick succession, watching as the glittering colours blurred.

My trance was disturbed by an ear-piercing scream. Looking up, I spotted a woman stood in front of the farmhouse in the distance. She looked around about middle-aged and was still in her nightclothes.

A portly man barrelled out of the door and placed himself in front of her.

"Stay away, creature of sin," he shouted at me, he sounded truly terrified. He held up a large cross, much like the one I vaguely remembered hung in my father's church. Even as I focused on the man and woman, a part of my mind was able to note the peculiar dimness of my memories of my father and his cross, even though the sight of him preaching in front of it had been a daily occurrence for me.

The cross in the man's hand had no noticeable effect on me.

I knew I should run. At the moment I had gotten lucky and the wind was blowing their scent in the opposite direction to me, but it would not be to long before I caught a hint of it. I knew that they would die if that happened. If it hadn't been for the wind, I presumed the monster within me would have already won by now.

The majority of my mind was screaming run, but some part of it was transfixed by the look of horror on their faces.

_They fear me. I truly am a monster._

And so I ran away again, before any harm could come to them.

I ran through fields after field, careful to always avoid any sign of human civilisation, after a few minutes a spotted a forest in the distance and aimed towards that instead. Hopefully in there I could manage to avoid human contact until I could find a way to rid this Earth of me.

_Even if the sun and crosses cannot kill me, there has to be a way. I must find out what it is, before it is too late and an innocent person dies at my hand. There has to be some way out of this living embodiment of Hell._

Chapter 3: Alternative

1663

_Carlisle_

I had tried everyway I could think of to end my existence. There was no material sharp enough to cut my granite-like skin so that I could bled to death, though I wondered if I now had blood anyway. Or would I no longer have blood running through me because I refused to acquire it in the violent manner my new body desired?

Jumping from a cliff had no effect, except to damage the rocks at the bottom. It was while I was attempting to drown myself that I discovered I apparently don't need oxygen anymore.

No, there was only one thing my body needed, the thing it craved more and more each day. Human blood. The burn in my throat was a constant torment, increasing gradually as the days went past and I continued to deny my body what it desired.

I stuck to the wilderness, trying to stay as far away as possible from the villages, towns, and cities. If I saw any evidence of human life on the horizon, I turned and fled in the opposite direction.

I was not heading in any particular direction or to any particular place. I did not even know which part of the country I was currently in. My only task was my own destruction, one I worked effortlessly on but to no avail.

_This cannot continue. There is no way I can avoid humans indefinitely. There has to be a way to end it somehow._

I knew that if I by accident became anywhere close to a human, then the instincts that guided my new body would now win. I worried tremendously about what would happen if I were to come across a travelling man or an outlaw in the forest. For this reason, I stayed in the deepest sections of woodland, far away from the roads or any of man's other handiworks.

A part of me, the new part that was governed by the burn in my throat, rejoiced at the thought of when my luck ran out. But another part of me, the part that was still governed by the rational human side of my brain, recoiled. For now, the second part, the humane part, was winning the battle that raged within my body. But only just. My body would not allow me to continue to refuse myself what it needed so badly for much longer. Eventually the demon within me would win and someone would die.

_I cannot allow that to happen._

But, as the days went by and I continued to exist, it seemed increasingly likely that that day would happen. The day when I chanced to stumble upon some luckless human and murdered him brutally. The attack on myself and the horrifying wounds of the body I had found stuck out in my mind, despite how unclear the memories were when compared to my recent memories that had occurred after I had undergone the chance that made me the monster I had become. I had seen my own scars now as well, a revolting savage looking collection of rigid, bumpy lines from where my neck had been brutalized. I lived in fear of attacking someone in the same violent manner. It was not just the thought of murder that disgusted me, but the manner in which it would be committed. I had once thought that doing so would be an atrocious act of evil and I still did. I would not, could not, commit such an act.

But there seemed to be no alternative. The longer I refused to give in, the stronger the desire became, until it would surely win. My throat was a constant torture and my will to deny it what it so desperately wanted weakened every day as it stabbed and prickled me mercilessly. I wanted to cure that burn. Wanted to rid myself of the pain. And yet, giving in was simply not an answer. No matter how tempting an idea it seemed at times, I knew I could not give in. I would never forgive myself. I would hate myself even more if I did so.

But I was losing the strength to fight myself, and eventually I knew it would get to the point where if I saw a human I would pounce upon it, much like a starving human offered a slice of bread.

_Perhaps that is the answer. Just like a human would die without food, will I wither away into nothingness if I continue to deny myself the substance I need?_

It was my only option left. I could not continue to dart around the English countryside, seeking higher cliffs or deeper lakes. I had to make sure I was hidden in a place no human would ever find me, and then slowly allow myself to weaken and die. And I needed to do it now, while the rational side of me was still strong enough to fight the instincts of the monster I had become.

~o~ ~O~ ~o~

The cave was perfect for my cause. There was no sign of human life for miles around, nothing but undisturbed countryside. I could remain in there uninterrupted for however long it took me to - for want of a better phrase - starve to death.

I crawled in and leant against the back of the wall, my legs crossed in front of me. Sit like that I only just fit inside.

There was nothing to do now but wait. Wait for the end to come, slowly and painfully. And I would embrace it joyfully when it did.

_This has to work. I will not kill innocent people. I will not be the one deciding who lives and who dies. That should be God's decision and God's alone. _

_But if that is true, then what did I do to deserve such a punishment as eternal damnation? For surely, even if I do die, there cannot possibly be redemption for a creature such as me?_

I do not know how long I had been in that cave, slowly weakening, when I caught the scent that spurred my instincts in to action. It all happened before I had even realized. One moment I was sat in the cave, contemplating my own death, the next I was out in the fresh air of the forest. Once I came to my senses once more, I just stood shell-shocked for a few moments at the sudden change of events. The first thing I realized was that the burn in my throat had decreased. It was still there, but nowhere near as painful as it had been. For the first time since I woke up as this demon, it seemed to be at a level I could tolerate. Then horror washed over me at the thought of what I'd done; thinking the monster within me had finally won. That all this meant I had finally caved in an killed a human, for what other possibility was there? Then I had forced myself to look at the corpses at my feet, forced myself to face the fact that I was murderer. That I had committed an unforgivable act of evil

They were deer corpses.

I have never felt such relief as I did then. The excitement came next, for I did not fail to understand what this meant in the long-run for me. The feeling was liberating after so many weeks of anxiety and worry.

_How did I not think of this earlier?_

My body craved blood, but it did not have to be that of humans.

I laughed out loud at the obviousness of it all.

_There is an alternative._ _I will not have to kill humans._ _This is the answer. I do not have to be a monster. After all, I ate venison as a human, how is this any more monstrous?_

For the first time in weeks, I felt hopeful.

_But what will I do now? _

I had been so focused on ending my life, that I had not once stopped to consider the thought of what a vampire does with itself. Why would I have done so when I thought that allowing myself to live was not a viable option? But now, I had all of eternity stretching out ahead of me, and no idea what to do with it.

_I have to consider this as an opportunity. Now that I know there is an alternative to human blood, I should attempt to make the most of what has happened to me. Perhaps there is some way to use what I am as an advantage. Perhaps God does have a plan for me after all._

Hope surged through me at the thought, even though, as of yet, I had no idea what said plan could be. I had all of eternity to figure it out.

**Chapter 4: Gold Eyes**

1664

_Carlisle_

As I sneaked through the manor house, it was hard not to feel like nothing more than a common criminal.

_Is this what I've been lowered to? As if spending my life skulking around forests isn't bad enough. _

I looked at my ragged clothing. I had not changed clothes since my transformation, and had spent a year roaming the English countryside hunting animals, so my clothes were understandably nothing more than tatters now.

_But what else is there for me to do aside from my endless wondering?_

A part of me longed to actually do something with my endless days; to put them to some use.

As a human, I had wished to be able to go to one of the grand universities and study. But it had been an impossible idea, as I was nothing more than a pastor's son and destined to follow in his footsteps. And now it was still impossible. I could hardly walk into a university with blazing red eyes and ask about classes. I probably wouldn't even make it to the door without killing everyone who happened to be present. Despite my discovery of an alternative, it was still human blood my body craved above all else, even as I continued to deny myself any.

A few months ago, I had decided it was time to taste my reaction to human blood. I had carefully ran to the outskirts of a small village, but once there the aroma of human blood had been over-powering. I had forced myself to hold my breath, I did not need the oxygen anymore and it cut of my sense of smell. Even without the scent present to torture me, it had still been difficult to force my body to flee back into the forest once more.

I had not tried since, recognizing the foolishness of the idea to begin with. For what would I have done had the scent not over-powered me? I could hardly just casually stroll into a town without starting mass hysteria, and rightly so.

_I can't even walk into a tailor's for new clothes, and am instead lowered to stealing from someone else's house._

After a year in the same clothes, I had to face the fact that I would either have to acquire myself some new ones or I would soon be forced to run through the forest stark naked. And while my doing so would not actually have mattered, after all nobody ever saw me so it was hardly cause a scandal. I would not accept the idea. I may not have been human anymore but I was not an animal either.

However, since I could hardly obtain clothes legally, it would appear stealing was my only option, loathsome as it was.

It had caused me great internal debate. For what choice made me more humane? Running around naked like a wild animal or stealing as the lowest form of human did. Thieves and criminals were looked down upon as though they were a sub-species of humanity anyway. How did joining their ranks make me anymore human than acting like a wild animal?

The answer: a sub-species of human was still more human than an animal. Or me, for that matter.

In the end, I decided the matter just had to be dealt with and all I could do was try and do it in the least bothersome way possible, so as to cause the less distress to my victims.

A part of me noted, in an attempt to comfort myself, that I least the crime I was committing was only petty theft, and not murder. I could only assume that most members of my species would solve this problem by stealing their clothes from their victims. At least I would not take someone's life as well as their clothes.

However, it did not matter how I tried to justify my actions, I still felt like nothing more than a common criminal

Which I suppose I was. Except there was nothing common about me.

The people who owned the house I was currently sneaking around in were at church. I had purposefully waited until it was Sunday, knowing that everyone would be out of the house, and there would be no risk of someone spotting me.

But still, using someone's religious beliefs to help me rob them just added another uncomfortable layer of immorality to the whole embarrassing episode.

Finally, I reached the master bedroom and quickly located the closet. I had chosen this house as the family seemed well off, and therefore I would hopefully not be stealing anything that would be missed.

I searched for the oldest clothing I could find and picked out only the essentials that I needed. I could only hope that with them being the most worn-looking of the clothing, the man who they belonged to didn't wear them that often anymore, and consequently they wouldn't be missed.

I turned to leave the room, eager to get out of this house and have this whole shaming incident behind me. As I turned, I noticed a small mirror left on a table. I could only presume it belonged to the lady of the house. I had not seen my reflection since the change. I used the quick glimpse I had got of the vampire who changed me to imagine what I now looked like.

Though I had no real desire to see myself with the red eyes of a demon, I knew this was essential if I was to truly come to terms with what I now was. Despite everything, I was still clinging to humanity, even though I knew I should not. I was not human anymore. I had to accept this fact.

Looking in the mirror, I was amazed by what I saw. My eyes were not the monstrous red I had expected, but a golden honey colour.

_Why is that then?_

As I looked in the mirror, I realised I could almost pass as a human. Perhaps then, in time, I would be able to walk among humans without giving myself away for what I was. I would certainly look peculiar to them still, but I don't think anyone would guess at my true nature.

While I could never truly be human again, if I could learn to control my thirst then what harm could I do in pretending to be among them. Perhaps even with my improved senses I could be of use to them, though how I don't know.

I felt the most optimistic I had been seen my change, even more so than when I had discovered the alternative of animal blood. For now, not only could I not kill humans but I could live amongst them. I could take back some of the humanity I had lost.

_And if I can be among humans and live amongst them, then I can stop living the life of a hermit. _

_I would need to earn some money though, and I am not stealing it, having to steal clothes is bad enough. So what can I do?_

It was a question I couldn't answer. I placed the mirror back where I had found it and left, carrying my ill-gotten clothes.

As I was leaving, I noticed a broken window in the kitchen. Beside it was several planks of wood and some nails. Clearly someone had been planning to board it up, but had got distracted or run out of time.

It took me only a minute to board the window up; it was the only payment I could give for the clothes I had taken.

As soon as I arrived back in the forest, I stripped my ragged clothes off and dressed in the ones I'd just stole.

The scent of a herd of deer caught my attention. I wasn't particularly thirsty, but I wasn't going to let the chance of a hunt go amiss.

I took down three of the dear and drank my fill. I was about to bury them, when inspiration struck.

_How much do deer hides sell for at markets nowadays?_

~o~ ~O~ ~o~

Ahead of me, the hustle and bustle of the market could clearly be heard.

Over the last few weeks, I had been slowly adjusting myself to entering human civilisation once more. First, I had walked through a village at night, after doing this several times I had felt bold enough to move onto the next stage, which was to walk through the village by day. I had to be extra careful though and also watch the cloud cover, for it would have been impossible to explain away my abnormal glittery skin. The villagers would scream at me in horror as the housewife did on my first day as an immortal.

Next, I moved onto towns, for villages were not large enough to have substantial markets. I used the same system. Firstly, I allowed myself to stand on the outskirts during the night, if I seemed in control then I would allow myself to walk through the streets for a few minutes, the time increasing on every visit. Then secondly, I would walk through the town during the day.

And now I had reached the final stage, having to actually interact with humans.

As I approached the market at a human pace (something it had taken time to perfect during my practises), I allowed myself to breath slowly. The bouquet of human blood filled my nostrils and as always my throat burned. Though it was as bad as it had ever been, I still had more control over myself than I had in my first year. My mind seemed to be slowly gaining more and more command over my unruly body and instincts.

It was a small market, with just a few stalls. Still having no money to be able to afford to rent a stall, my plan was simply to stand at the entrance of the market and hope to attract the attention of those entering and leaving.

Other entrepreneurs had decided upon this same plan. They all looked distrustfully at me as I arrived. I tried my best to ignore them as I lay my wares out in front of me. The majority of humans walked straight past me, only paying me enough attention to give me a suspicious glare. I did not blame me, my golden eyes may have helped to hid my true identity, but I was still clearly, at least in my eyes, something not human. I was trusting on human ignorance for them to be tricked.

A little girl was the first to approach me.

"Hello," she whispered timidly.

"Hello," I replied, trying my best to make my voice calm and re-assuring. The act of speaking caused her delicious scent to fill my senses. For a second, I had a fleeting desire to kill her before I suppressed it.

_This is playing with fire, Carlisle!_ I warned myself .

"Fluffy!" the little girl announced proudly, stroking the deer hide.

"That's right," I told her, in what I hoped was an encouraging voice. I had no idea if I was using the right tone to portray what I meant as it had been so long since I had spoke to anyone but myself.

"Elizabeth!" a woman shouted, grabbing the girl by the arm. "Leave than man alone," she scolded. She looked at me worriedly. I smiled to reassure her, but she shivered and hurried away. My smile fell instantly. Apparently, my smile only made me more intimidating. Running my tongue along my razor sharp teeth I could understand why. Some long buried human instinct of preservation would subconsciously tell them these were the teeth of a predator. Perhaps that was why humans were so afraid of me, not just how obviously different I looked, but their own long-buried instincts informing them stay away from me, even if they don't understand why.

_Remember not to show your teeth when you smile next time._

With no more interest in me or my wares, I began to observe the humans around me. My curiosity was insatiable as I had never been around humans like this before, stood in one place and watching them as if I was one of them.

"What a creepy guy, does he never blink?" one of my fellow vendors whispered to another.

"Or move?" the other whispered back.

Of course, humans had to blink and humans could not stand perfectly still as I did. It took great thought to open and close my eyes to perform the action humans do subconsciously, the same applied to moving. Every so often I very purposefully shifted my weight from leg to leg as if I was tired. I shuffled my feet as if I was bored. I begin to observe those around me once more, but this time so as to copy their movements.

I noticed that when I did this, the inquisitive human looks were a lot less afraid. They were still drawn by my mysterious looks but my forced movements made me look more humane and less intimidating.

Fifteen minutes after I had first begun those movements, a man approached me. He was a rough-looking man and I noticed there was no fear on his face. My throat flared uncomfortably once more but as always I fought against it. I thought instead of my hopes of living amongst humans once more and how this could be the first step towards that goal. A goal I hoped would led me towards whatever God's purpose for me now was.

"Two pence for a hide," he said gruffly. He fidgeted uncomfortably, despite his earlier indifference his closeness to me was causing him to be anxious, though I could see him trying to hide it. He seemed the sort of man who would not allow himself to show fear or seem weak. I was surprised at myself when I realized I was observing human traits and thinking as they did.

"Agreed," I replied. I had no idea if I was being ripped off or not, I was just pleased to make my first sale.

The man placed two pennies in my hand, took his hide, and left swiftly.

I clutched the two pennies in my hand, mindful of bending them. I had made my first ever piece honest piece of money.

And I had made it as a human did.

I felt the least like a demon I had since waking up to my new life. Maybe there was hope for me yet.

All this celebration over two tiny bronze coins. I wasn't even ashamed over that fact either.


	7. Update: Maria

**Not too many changes just a more in-depth look into why the Cullens had to flee to Alaska.**

* * *

1995

_Jasper_

Alice's face glazed over and then suddenly her emotions spiked.

"Alice?" I called urgently, darting to her side.

"Maria," she managed to stammer. I felt panic rise in both us. "She's coming here."

_Why would Maria come here of all places? _

"What? When?" I asked frantically. I had not seen Maria since I had left her in the South all those decades ago, and I had no desire to do so.

"Tomorrow. She's learned about you being here. She wants to get you to join her again." She tried to keep the emotion out of her voice but I, of course, could feel her worry and sadness.

"I will never join her again," I said forcefully.

"I know," Alice told me comfortingly, and I felt a little of her worry evaporate. "I know," she repeated, stroking my arm reassuringly. "I need to tell Carlisle and the others."

~o~ ~O~ ~o~

We were all sat anxiously in the living room – Alice had said Maria would be here in ten minutes. My family were all trying to act normal but I could tell they were worried and nervous. Alice sat leaning against my legs, trying to hide her anxiety from me, as if I couldn't tell.

When Edward's eyes narrowed in the direction of the doorway, I knew she had to be near. Not soon after, the sound of vampire footsteps in the distance broke the uncomfortable silence.

"A house," Maria muttered disbelievingly. We heard her walk up the front steps, muttering in Spanish. She stopped in front of it and I realized she didn't know (or remember) enough about human sensibilities to knock. However, Esme had already moved towards the door and opened it.

"You must be Maria," she said, as polite as she would be to any other guest. "Would you like to come in?"

Esme moved out of the way and I saw Maria for the first time in decades. Her red eyes evidenced she had fed not long ago. She was the complete opposite to the vampire woman she now stood next to. While everything about Esme suggested gentleness and kindness, Maria screamed cruelty and coldness. Her eyes flew across each of the Cullens, before landing on me.

"Jasper," she said with a twisted smile. "It's been a long time. Ever since you ran off with that ungrateful Peter and his worthless newborn companion."

"Peter and Charlotte are my friends," I replied coldly.

"And yet you left them for this new little coven of yours." Her eyes darted around each member of my family as silence fell once more.

"Why don't you take a seat, Miss …" Esme trailed off lamely as she realized I had never told her Maria's last name – indeed, I didn't even know it myself.

Maria laughed harshly at her. "Miss," she snorted disbelievingly. "What use do vampires have for last names? They're nothing more than a remnant left over from a weaker life."

"Well, we still use ours here," Carlisle said calmly, walking over to stand by his wife. Maria turned her attention to him. "Carlisle Cullen," he said, holding out his hand for her to shake. She ignored it. It didn't bother him, but Edward and Emmett both glared at her, and I could feel the anger coming off them.

"So where's this lovely mate of yours I've heard all about?" Maria asked me sarcastically, turning her back on Carlisle and Esme. Alice stepped forward and looked her directly in the eyes. As she was a good half a foot shorter than Maria, she had to jut her chin up to do so.

"That'd be me," she said. Maria eyed her critically, and I thought I felt something akin to jealously off her for a second, followed by anger.

"This is my wife, Alice," I told her defiantly, just daring her to question the wording. I wrapped my arm around Alice's waist, pulling her closer.

"A child bride, how sweet," she mocked. Rosalie hissed furiously at her, I was taken back by the anger coming off her. I actually found myself feeling grateful towards her, for the fact that she would feel so protective of Alice. Maria whipped round to face her instead.

"Careful, girly, I could demolish you so easily," she crooned mockingly. Emmett took a menacing step forward. I saw her appraising his large form.

"You'd make a talented fighter," she told him.

"I think I'll pass," Emmett said. His cheerful tone sounded forced for once. He was still stood protectively in front of Rosalie.

"Why are you here, you bitch?" Rosalie spat at her. "Nobody wants you here." Maria hissed at her once more, getting into her offensive stance. Emmett growled warningly. I attempted to calm the situation. As I did so, Carlisle moved to stand between the three of them.

"I'll have no violence in this house," he said in that calm voice of his that still rang with authority. Maria cackled to herself. Carlisle turned to face her. "I do not support violence. But just know that we will do anything possible to protect _any_ member of our family if we feel they are threatened." I did not miss the way he emphasized 'any', suggesting he was including me. Maria only cackled harder, she was projecting only sheer amusement. She clearly did not see him as a threat.

"Would you like me to show you the guest room now?" Esme asked, still attempting to be polite.

"Guest room," Maria snorted. She turned to look at me. "Well, Jasper, I'll give you one thing – they're certainly amusing."

She turned to Esme. "I don't need a guest room," she said scornfully. I could feel myself growing angry at her attitude towards Esme, and I knew I wasn't the only one. All the other Cullen children were growing angrier by the second as well. Though none of us were as cross as Carlisle – it took a lot to anger Carlisle, but disrespecting Esme was the quickest way.

Oblivious to this, Maria had turned her back on Carlisle and Esme once more. "I just came for a catch up with an old friend. Let's go talk somewhere, Jasper," Maria ordered. All eyes turned to me.

"You can say whatever you want to say in front of my family," I said defiantly. Maria became amused once more.

"Your family. Aww, how twee," she said mockingly. "Come now, Jasper. You're a soldier. A fighter. You don't belong here."

"Well, where do I belong then?" I asked scornfully. "Since I most certainly don't belong with you." I spat the last line out in anger.

The phone ringing broke through the tension in the room. All eyes turned to the ringing appliance.

"I'll get it," Carlisle said. He walked over and began speaking to the person on the other end. We couldn't tell much from his side of the conversation. Once he had put the phone down he realized everyone's attention was still on him. "It was the hospital. They need me for a surgery this afternoon."

"Hospital?" Maria asked incredulously. "Surgery? You're going to do surgery on a human? What kind of vampire are you? Humans are food, nothing more. What do we care if they're ill or die? There's always more to replace them." Maria shook her head once more. "Seriously, Jasper. What are you doing here? Humans are just food remember. Surely you remember the warm trickle of fresh human blood?" she whispered seductively. She had come to stand close to me. Her finger trailed down the side of my throat, while the inside burned at her words. I could feel the anger and disgust coming from all around me, aside from Maria, who was purposefully remembering how ecstatic she felt after every feed. I could feel my control weakening, and weakening.

"Get the hell away from my husband!" Alice growled. Her voice reminded me of whom I had become. I was no longer the man who could be controlled by Maria. I had never seen Alice so angry before – not even when Emmett took to wearing flares in the seventies.

"Leave Maria," I said forcefully. She looked at me like I had attacked her. Rejection washed over her.

"Not until I have what I came for," she purred back. "Come back with my Jasper. We were so happy together." She sent a wave of lust at me, but it had no sway over me now like it used to. Not when I had felt the love that radiated of Alice.

"Leave," I repeated. Her eyes narrowed into two cat-like slits.

"I think Jasper is right. It is time for you to leave," Carlisle announced in the same calm voice as before, walking over to stand by my side

"No," Maria said with a smirk. "I think I'd like to stay a little longer."

"No," Esme said forcefully. "You should leave." Maria cackled scornfully.

"Oh, should I?" she said disdainfully, staring Esme down.

"Yes, you should. I won't have you in my house if your only intention is to hurt my son." Esme stared back without flinching, an admirable feat – I'd never been able to do so.

"Your son?" Maria said incredulously. She turned to me. "Is that what you are now, Jasper. The former feared lieutenant of the most vicious army in the South, now nothing more than a Mommy's boy?"

Rosalie snapped at her before I had a chance to reply. "Which part of leave don't you understand?"

"Aww, do you love your Mommy too?" she crooned at her. Rosalie hissed, and Emmett growled another warning at her.

"Enough. You should leave now," Carlisle ordered.

"I don't take orders from people who spend their lives patching up sickly humans," she said scornfully. "I never thought you would either, Jasper. Come with me, you can be by my side again. My lover. My lieutenant." Again she sent wave after wave of lust at me. Back when I had been her puppet that trick always worked – I had wanted to please my master, in any way possible.

"No, thank you. I'd rather be Alice's husband. And Carlisle and Esme's son." A furious swell of anger washed over me from her, and with one last growl she stormed out of the house. Relief flooded the room from all sides. I turned my attention to my wife – to my surprise she was smiling.

"I never once saw you choosing to leave," she explained.

"How could I?" I whispered back. I pulled her into my arms, sealing her lips to mine. I could have stayed like that forever, but Emmett's booming voice told us to get a room.

"Hypocrite," Alice retorted back at him. Emmett just smiled smugly.

Among all the relief, there was also an overwhelming amount of parental love coming from Carlisle and Esme, though none of us choose to address what I had just said. It had been the first time I had ever called myself their son out loud. I looked over at the pair of them, Carlisle had his arm around Esme's waist, holding her close, and they were talking quietly.

Carlisle was a completely different leader to Maria – that much had been clear from the very first moment I joined the Cullens. Now I began to realize why. Simply put, Carlisle cared for us. His top priority wasn't gaining territory, or settling a vendetta, but making sure everyone in his family was happy. And if for one second he should forget that fact, or lose his way, he had Esme beside him to keep him on the straight and narrow. Maria had no one. No one was there to help Maria in times of trouble. Esme would always be by Carlisle's side no matter what.

~o~ ~O~ ~o~

It had been Emmett's idea to watch a football match on the television - something to take my mind of things he claimed.

It had been two days since Maria's abrupt arrival and departure, and I had to admit I was still on edge. If there was one thing I knew about Maria, it was that she didn't like not getting exactly what she wanted. The disdain she had showed to the Cullens (inside their own home and their own territory no less) worried me, for it made me think she would not hesitate in planning some form of revenge. After all, she had it more than obvious that she did not see them as any sort of threat, no doubt she thought because of their diet they were weak. I couldn't help but smile with grim satisfication everytime I imagined Maria learning just how powerful the Cullens really were. Not just Alice and Edward with their talents, but the rest as well, who I knew would fight fiercely for their family should they ever have to.

I had just been getting into the match and finally pushing these thoughts from my mind temporarily, when Alice gasped and Edward growled furiously. They were both absoulutely lived all of a sudden - which never meant anything good. Alice had obviously had a vision of something bad.

"That little bitch," Edward spat out angrily.

"Edward," Esme chastised gently, looking up curiously from the book on architecture she was currently reading.

"Alice?" I questioned.

"Maria," she murmured for the second time in two days. Dread filled me once more.

_What has she done? I knew this was coming!_

"I didn't see it until now. We need to phone Carlisle. Oh crap, he left his cell phone in his office!"

"Alice. Alice, what's going on?" Esme asked frantically. All of us were wondering the same question. A hot fury filled me.

_If she dares to do anything to him…_

"Carlisle's patients. She's going to kill some of Carlisle's patients. We can't stop her. It's too late." She was shaking her head in despair.

"What happens next?" I asked.

"She manages to make it look like it's Carlisle's fault," Alice murmured.

"Malpractise?" Esme questioned worriedly. Her book had fallen from her grasp and lay on the floor forgotten. "What happens to him?"

Alice shook her head, biting her lip anxiously. "She, she makes it look like euthanisia. By American law, that's murder." Esme gasped, her hand's covering her mouth. If she could have, I was certain she would have been crying. She was shocked, but mostly upset on her husband's behalf.

"But surely, surely the people at the hospital know that he'd, he'd never kill a patient?" Esme stammered.

Alice's eyes turned downcast as a fresh wave of misery washed over her and Edward answered on her behalf, though he was uncomfortable at having to do so. He was trying to force himself to stay strong and composed - no doubt for his mother's benefit. Perhaps one of Edward's best attributes was his love and loyalty to his parents.

"They think that Carlisle's compassion would make him want to end their pain. That if a patient begged to be killed, he'd give in and comply." Edward's voice was grave. "She certainly knew what she was doing, that's for certain," he muttered bitterly. I had never known him so angry before.

Esme had been vendered speechless. We all had. Everyone's emotions were a swirl. Anger, upset, and disbelief were the main contenders.

All I could think was: t_hat conniving evil bitch!_

"But, but he couldn't," Esme had managed to regain her voice, though she was still stammering. Her emotions were still haywire, too. "Even then. He could never take a life. He would never, never kill."

"We know, Esme," Edward said softly.

"But how, how can they? How can anyone ever think?"

"They don't want to. They find it difficult, but the evidence is substantial," Edward replied gently. "That bitch is good at what she does," he muttered under his breath.

Alice gave a little sniffle. She had been uncharacteristically quiet for the last part of the conversation. I wrapped my arm around her comfortingly and she rested herself into my embrace, though she was still tense. Her eyes weren't really seeing me or any of the others, but were lost in the future.

"Well," Esme said, suddenly. All sadness and shock had been swept aside and replaced with determinedness. "That's not going to happen. We'll simply have to leave town again - it wouldn't be the first time. We'll destory all paper evidence we were ever here and soon enough people will stop talking. Of course, the police will search for us. But how do you launch a search without any evidence that the people you are searching for actually existed? And we'll go to Denali again, like we said we would. We've done it before and we'll do it again. This family's got through worse." Esme's eyes were blazing with her determination, but she was also feeling fiercely protective. I had never seen her like this before - she usually allowed everyone else to make the plans and went along with them. But it would appear that with Carlisle temporarily unavailable to lead us, when push came to shove, Esme (once she had pulled herself together) was more than capable to do so if she felt her family was at risk.

"That's a good plan," Alice agreed. "The phone will ring in a minute. You need to go bail Carlisle out."

"He's actually been arrested?" Emmett exclaimed. Him and Rosalie had said very little so far. He seemed to be trying to surpress a grin.

"Emmett, this isn't funny," Esme snapped. "Edward, while I'm gone you need to go to the hospital, you know what to do. And the rest of you-"

"There's no rush this time, Esme," Alice interrupted. Esme looked at her incredulously. "Carlisle's court date isn't going to be for awhile. They're not exactly expecting us to be able to actually pay the bail. Never mind for that amount of money to not matter to us. We're just lucky they're letting us have bail - thankfully they haven't fully decided what to charge him with yet."

Just then the phone rang. Esme picked it up before it had even finished its first rang.

"How much is the bail money?" Emmett asked Alice curiously.

"Emmett, shut up!" both Alice and Edward snapped at him.

"But-"

"Shut up!" Rosalie chimed in angrily. She was more concerned for Carlisle then I knew she would ever let on.

"Oh, come on, Carlisle's in _jail. _Are you telling me you can't even see the funny side of that? It's not like we don't know that he's getting out of there, thanks to little Miss. Pyschic here."

Rosalie, Edward, and Alice gave tentative smiles at that statement. I couldn't force myself to even fake a smile. After all, I hadn't forgotten the real reason Carlisle was in jail at the moment.

_Because of Maria. And because of me._

Edward sighed dramatically, rolling his eyes at me.

"Don't you go blaming yourself," Alice hissed at me, easily able to realize what I was currently thinking.

Esme had just put the phone down. "I need to go to the jail to get your father," she announced, even though we already knew that.

"Would you like me to come with you, mom?" Edward asked gently.

"Yes. Yes, that might be useful," she muttered distractedly. Her earlier show of strength had melted somewhat since she learned that there was no intermediate danger. If I had to guess I would say she was concentrating once more on the ridiculousness of the notion of someone throwing Carlisle, of all people, in jail for murder. Edward's subtle nod in my direction told me I was right.

Quickly, Edward and Esme gathered the essentials they needed before leaving with a hasty goodbye.

Emmett tried to spark my interest once more in the match that was still on-going on screen, but I was too caught up in my own thoughts to care, as was everyone else. Even Emmett was only faking his interest.

~o~ ~O~ ~o~

We all turned around as Carlisle walked through the door. Esme and Edward were just behind him.

"I take it you all know?" he asked tiredly, his eyes on Alice.

I felt I had to speak up. "It was Maria, Carlisle. I'm sorry."

"There's no need to apologize, Jasper. It wasn't your fault," he replied almost instantly. His emotions showed he wasn't lying. He truly didn't blame me.

"Of course not," Edward told me. "Carlisle doesn't do blame, how have you not picked that up yet?"

Carlisle came to stand in front me, Esme beside him.

"You are not to blame for what she did," he said, looking me directly in the eyes. "I want you to understand that, son." The last word took me by the surprise; it was the first time he had ever dared to call me by the affectionate title he so readily used for Edward or Emmett.

"Thank you, Father," I replied gently. I felt a spark of happiness among all the grief Carlisle was currently emitting.

Esme reached out and ruffled my hair gently.

"No matter what you were, or what that … that woman," she forced the word 'woman' out, as if she wanted to call Maria something much worse, which was very un-Esme-like of her, "made you do. You are our son now and we love you."

"Thanks, Mom." She beamed at me, and then her and Carlisle left, and we heard them go into Carlisle's office.

"Do you think Carlisle will be OK?" Emmett asked.

"Esme will cheer him up," Alice replied.

Edward groaned. "No, not like that. Get your mind out of the gutter, Emmett." As my siblings bantered, I attempted to flatten my hair down. Esme's ruffling had messed it up.

"Annoying, isn't it?" Edward said to me understandingly. I just laughed.

"Pal, you owe her like forty eight years of hair ruffling, since it took you so long to come to your senses," Emmett told me. With Carlisle's return, everyone had cheered up. Yes, we would have to live for Alaska soon, but that suddenly didn't seem so bad.

Alice snuggled herself against my chest. "See," she said to me. "I told you belonged here." I found I couldn't argue with her.


	8. Update: Forks

**A longer look at the Cullens when they first move to Forks.**

* * *

2003

_Carlisle_

"So what's so great about this place?" Rosalie asked with a sigh as we all looked around the newest house that had been added to our (really Esme's) property collection.

Everyone aside from Esme and Alice looked bored, this was just another move to them. Alice always enjoyed the thrill of moving somewhere new and watching how our lives unfolded in our new home, while Esme loved the excitement of a new project. I could see her eyes roaming its walls already, considering the possibilities as her face lit up with anticipation. The fascinated smile and twinkling eyes were a common place feature of my wife's face whenever she was presented with a new building to mould in her very capable (and incredibly artistic) hands.

"It's the wettest place in the Continental US," I informed Rosalie patiently.

"There's so few sunny days we barely have to hide," Alice sang cheerfully.

"Well, it's nice to no longer feel like we're on the run like common criminals," Emmett commented. With Alice's go ahead, we had felt same enough to revert back to our true names and the adopted family story. After the five years of hiding in Alaska, followed by three years apart under false names, it felt nice to once more be back together as the Cullen family.

"That's because we're not _common _criminals," Edward said dryly. "Fraud's a felony."

"Fraud's a felony that keeps this family safe," Jasper replied waspishly. He was the member of the family in charge of acquiring our false papers as he was able to do so with alarming ease due to his talent.

"I'm well aware of that fact," Edward replied coolly.

"Boys," Esme chided gently. Both Edward and Jasper rolled their eyes at her and then grinned at each other upon seeing the similar action, all earlier debate forgotten. Esme just shook her head playfully in response.

"Are you all ready for your first day of a new school in two days?" she asked them all teasingly, as if they were real human children rather than decades-old vampires who had done this charade countless time. Various unenthusiastic sounds were muttered – Emmett gave a large sarcastic 'whoopee.'

I sighed. "I know how you all feel about high school but it's-"

"Necessary for our safety," they all parroted. "We know!" There was several exasperated huffs.

I was trying my hardest to keep a straight face and glare at my children.

"You really need to work on your glaring, Carlisle," Edward informed me.

"That was suppose to be a glare?" Emmett questioned and I could tell he intended it as a genuine question rather than an attempt to wind me up more.

Esme giggled, smirking over in my direction.

"Isn't it time everyone went and picked their rooms?" I asked. Quick as a flash, they were all gone. Sometimes my children really did act like any other set of teenage siblings.

"You shouldn't have done that," Esme warned me. "You just know Edward and Rosalie will argue over the best room."

"Second-best room," I corrected jokingly. "Alice will have already bagged the best room."

"True," my wife admitted with a smile. I walked over to her, and hugged her gently from behind, resting my chin on her shoulder.

"So what are your plans for this place?" I asked. I looked around the house once more. It was nowhere near as rundown as some of our previous homes, but there could be no doubt it was in desperate need of re-decorating. As a looked around the living room, I calculated that half of the wallpaper in the room was peeling.

"Well, firstly the wallpaper has to go, obviously" she said sternly. In the corner of my eye, I saw her delicate nose wrinkle in disgust. Not that I blamed her. Judging by the wallpaper I would have assumed nobody had lived here since the seventies though I already knew it had actually only been empty for the last six months.

"Of course," I agreed.

"Then I was thinking a pale colour scheme throughout. And best of all, I have big plans for this wall." She pointed at the wall opposite us that she had been studying intensely. It looked no different to the other walls – one dingy window struggled to let in any light, never mind display the fine view I knew was on the other side.

"And what would they be?" I whispered saucily in her ear, pulling her close to me, causing her to squirm slightly in my grasp in a way that was most certainly not unpleasant.

"Stop distracting me," she scolded, though she didn't sound unhappy.

"I simply wanted to know what your plans for this special wall were," I said innocently. She snorted disbelievingly and wriggled out of my grasp. She began to walk towards the wall without turning round to face me.

"I'm going to knock it down," she said, stretching her arms out wide to indicate the entire wall.

"And why do we want a living room with three walls exactly?" I questioned teasingly. She turned around then to glare at me. Unlike me (apparently), Esme had the 'I know you're teasing but I'm still going to pretend to be annoyed' glare down to perfection.

Somewhere above me, I heard Edward snort with amusement.

"You're not funny," Esme informed me, but she was smiling. "And for your information, there's going to be three walls and a glass wall."

"A glass wall?" I questioned, though I could already see it. The entire wall would just be a window showing the breathtakingly beautiful expanse of forest around us. Like all of Esme's plan it was ingenious.

"This far away from town, I don't see why we have to hide anymore," Esme said quietly. Though she would never say it, I knew the years on the run after Maria's infamous killing spree had bothered her greatly. She liked things best when we were a family. Yes, we had been together in Alaska, but I knew in Esme's eyes that the charade we played for the humans helped to reaffirm the bonds between her and our children.

"We don't," I replied gently, moving to stand next to her once more. She was still staring at the wall. I caressed her cheek tenderly and she sighed contentedly.

"We should really go and pick out our own bedroom," she commented with a soft smile in my direction.

"First floor, second door on the right," Alice shouted from above us, causing us both to chuckle.

~o~ ~O~ ~o~

Edward was sulking. There could be no denying that fact. I could almost feel the glare on my back as the thought went through my mind, even though my eyes were on the road ahead of me.

"I still don't see why we have to pretend to be freshmen," he grumbled. I turned around to look at him briefly, and had to bite back a laugh, knowing it would not help the situation. As my eyes turned back to the road, I could feel the glare being given to my back again.

"This is not amusing," he insisted.

"Nobody said it was," Esme soothed sweetly from where she was sat in the passenger seat beside me. "You're simply doing what has to be done to look the part."

But as she begin to fiddle around in her purse, I noticed the slight smile on her face. In all honesty, we were more amused by his reaction than the actual circumstance.

The problem we faced every time our children started afresh at a new school was how to make it believable that they were the ages they claimed to be. Emmett and Jasper's real ages, and Rosalie's beauty, made it nearly impossible for us to even attempt to make them look fifteen going on sixteen, and we just had to hope everyone assumed they were early bloomers.

With Edward and Alice it was easier. Though we didn't know Alice's true age, her short stature made passing her off as fourteen easy. Though she was never too happy about parting with her designer clothes, she would dress up youngish at the start of the year (and despite the outfits involved, she gleamed some fun from her role of pretence) and then gradually over the next year or so, she would wear her ordinary clothes more and more often. The idea was to make it look like she was 'maturing' without her ever actually changing.

As Edward was the youngest physically of our children, the same system could be used from him as well.

He just happened to despise it.

Personally, I blamed the Second World War. More specifically, I blamed the draft.

Of course, on a list of bad things to come out of that period of human history, I would firmly place this at the very end of the list. But I was willing to take whatever amusement I could out of a time period which had been horrific for both the humans of the world and our family.

The main problem our family had had was avoiding the draft. Both of our sons and myself looked old enough to be drafted. Though we all would have helped if we had been able to, keeping our secret in the army -and on a battlefield- would have been near impossible, especially given that Emmett's control was still not the greatest back then.

To combat this problem, we decided to pretend our children were as young as we thought it was possible to fake. For Emmett, we decided this was fifteen and for Rosalie, fourteen. The problem came in the shape of what, in 1942, seemed a real issue: what if the war lasted more than three years? Moving again to a position where I could remain as a home front doctor rather than being drafted to the battlefield would be very precarious. In the end, we decided if the worst happened and the war was still raging when Emmett was 'eighteen' we would have to fake an illness of some sort. This meant we had to make Edward as young as possible so that he would not approach the draft age until a while after his older brother.

And that was how I came to watch my wife as she tried to make my physically seventeen-years-old and chronologically forty-years-old son look like a thirteen-year-old middle-schooler.

There was no denying it was amusing – more so because she failed miserably. In retrospect, we shouldn't have laughed so much, but it had been a much needed moment of amusement in amongst the darkness of the news continuously flowing in from Europe and the Pacific. (For Esme and myself that is, I've no doubt Rosalie and Emmett would have laughed that much no matter what the circumstance.)

It had also left Edward with a eternal hatred for having to dress up younger than he actually was.

Hence his current grumpiness.

"Oh, cheer up," Alice ordered him cheerfully. Her and Jasper had chosen to ride with us rather than go with Rosalie and Emmett in Edward's Volvo. (She wasn't allowed to drive the BMW round Forks yet. Once Edward had 'turned sixteen' it would appear he had been given his sister's old car as she got a new one.)

"Or don't actually," she remarked lightly. "If you sulk like that all day you really will look a fourteen-year-old."

"The pout certainly helps with that aspect," Jasper drawled at him.

"It's just for six months or so," Esme reminded him with sigh. She hated seeing him so annoyed.

"It's not like we've never done this before," Alice commented.

"Don't remind me," Edward grumbled. He probably hadn't appreciated my war-time memories.

"We're here," I remarked calmly as I turned into the car park. Unsurprisingly, I saw Edward's Volvo already parked near the entrance.

The whispers started as soon as we left the car, only increasing once Rosalie and Emmett came to join us. (They had remained safely inside the Volvo until we had arrived to avoid being stared at as long as possible.)

"Woah, check out the new kids."

"That is one freaky family."

"That blonde is hot as hell," was probably the politest comment about Rosalie (who seemed to be dominating the attention, as always), the rest were rather vulgar and caused Emmett to put his arm around her protectively. Of course, this only increased the whispers more.

"Is, is he with his sister?" the girl nearest to us whispered to her friend. I saw Emmett resist the urge to glare at her.

With a resigned "may as well get this over with", Alice had grabbed hold of Jasper's hand, making the couples within our family only too obvious to the members of Forks' student body.

"You think we could split them up? Both girls are fit, God knows why they're with their brothers. Must be from so hillbilly town down south" a boy whispered to his friend, sounding rather jealous.

"Sure," his friend agreed. "Shouldn't be too difficult. Both boys are probably thick as pig shit. One of us gets Blondie, the other gets the shortie." Now I knew both Emmett and Jasper were resisting the urge to glare and/ or growl at the two adolescent boys.

"Probably inbred," someone else commented. "Mommy and Daddy there look like they had them at thirteen or something."

If Edward and Alice had to dress young, then Esme and I had the opposite problem. She was dressed in a blouse, knee-length skirt, pantyhose, and small heels, while I was dressed in a shirt and tie, ready for my first day at the hospital that I was due to start this afternoon.

"The younger boy's cute though and clearly not dating his sister," a girl giggled.

"You think everyone's cute, Jessica," her friend sighed. "And what is he wearing?"

Edward managed a brief glare at his mother.

"The shop assistant said that's the sort of top a fourteen-year-old would wear," she grumbled under her breath.

"This is what happens when you don't invite me," Alice replied, also under her breath. Esme, clearly already exasperated by the day's events, ignored her.

"Awww, do you care what the ickle freshmen girls think about you, Eddie? Does someone have his first crush?" Emmett mocked in a baby voice.

"Emmett!" Esme and I both scolded. He just grinned unrepentantly as we entered the school building.

There was a few people hanging around the corridor, however, unlike outside, silence reigned which ever corridor we walked down. Though we soon heard the whispers ignite once they thought we were out of earshot.

"My lil' baby brother's starting high school, surely a little teasing is required," Emmett remarked, this time in a normal voice. After all, if anyone overheard him it would sound like perfectly normal sibling banter.

He threw his arm around Edward's shoulders. "But don't worry, Mom, Dad, I'll look after lil' Eddiekins here. Keep him out of trouble." A couple of passing students smirked, obviously amused.

"More like the other way round," Edward replied sharply, ducking out from under Emmett's arm. Though his words had been quiet, his actions caused a few stares as he stormed ahead of us. It was beginning to feel like we'd already been seen by the entirety of Forks High's small student population, though, of course, that wasn't true.

Thankfully, we soon reached the relative quiet of the school office.

"Whatever happened to 'blending in'?" I asked with a sigh. Edward, Alice, and Emmett snorted, while Rosalie and Jasper's raised their eyebrows in obvious exasperation.

"If we hit everyone with everything at once, they stop talking quicker," Alice remarked. "Better than having new rumours flying round ever week. First, how strange we look, than the inter-dating etc. etc. etc. This way we stay the topic of gossip for less time. Humans are good at getting use to weird."

"Alice!" I hissed. The school secretary was staring at us.

"She can't hear us, Carlisle," Edward told me tiredly. He seemed to be hiding a grimace.

"She's too busy checking us out," Emmett remarked with a smirk.

Luckily, the principal left his office then to come greet us. I saw the shock wash over his face before he tried his best to hid it.

"Um, you must be Dr. and Mrs. Cullen," he addressed Esme and me before shaking both our hands.

He was now scanning our children with confusion, his head flicking them and the papers he held in his hand. "What years are your children in again?" he asked cautiously.

"Edward and Alice are freshmen," I pointed to the pair of them. "And Rosalie, Emmett, and Jasper are sophomores." I pointed to each one in turn.

"Sorry, thought there was some mistake, never mind," he muttered, his face flushed red. Edward almost looked amused at the man's thoughts, at least he looked the least grumpy he had all morning.

"And you've moved here from Alaska?"

"Yes," Esme answered. "They all managed to get into an school for talented children up there." She managed to get the amount of smug motherly pride in her voice just right.

"Ah, OK then, well." The poor flustered man was saved by the school bell.

"Literally saved by the bell," Emmett muttered under his breath.

"Well, if you'd like to collect your timetables from Mrs. Cope here, classes should begin in five minutes." The secretary seemed quite flustered as she handed them over, and I sincerely hoped I was imagining the flirty smiles she flashed all three of my sons, though Rosalie's glare and Edward's grimace informed me I wasn't.

"Dr. Cullen, Mrs. Cullen, would you be able to stay a few extra minutes to discuss your family's, um, special circumstances?" the principal asked us.

"Of course," I agreed amiably. This wasn't the first time this had happened.

As a second school bell sounded, my children all trooped out the office with a few shouted goodbyes.

"Have a good day," Esme called after them. I thought I heard Edward mumble something about enjoying the charade too much.

"Would you like to come into my office and take a seat?" the principal asked.

"Of course," we both replied politely.

"So, um, all your children are adopted?" he asked once we were all seated.

"Alice, Edward, and Emmett are adopted," I replied. "Rosalie and Jasper are Esme's niece and nephew and we fostered them after the death of their parents."

"That's, that's very… kind of you."

"Thank you," Esme said sweetly. Though her reply sounded genuine enough, I could tell she had heard the man's hesitation too. There was no doubt he thought our family situation was strange but didn't dare to say it to our faces.

"Is there anything else I need to know about your children?"

"I can't think of anything in particular," I replied calmly.

"Ah, well, I, um, think that's it then," he said uncomfortably. Obviously, he had expected there to be something – people always automatically assumed that five adopted teenagers most be troubled.

"It was nice to meet you," Esme said, standing up to signal the end of the conversation. I copied her. The principal shook my hand quickly and then with a final set of goodbyes we left.

"Well, all in all that went OK," Esme commented as we walked through the school hallways. "Aside from him obviously expecting our children to be hooligans," she added tartly. I chuckled slightly.

"You know he'll see how wrong we are soon. I doubt many children behave as well at school as ours." She smiled slightly at that.

"When does your shift start?" she asked.

I looked at my watch. "In three hours."

A lone student walked out of the bathroom then, his eyes looked like they would pop out of his head when he saw us. His baby face made him look too young to be in high school so I guessed he had to be a freshman. Looking at him I could see that, despite Esme's best effort, Edward would still look much older stood next to him.

We both purposefully kept walking, looking straight in front of us as though we hadn't noticed his stares.

Esme was smiling as we left the school building and headed towards my car.

"Why so happy?" I asked, though I was certain I already knew the answer.

"A new town. A new beginning. What's not to be happy about?" she replied. She looked around at the expense of green forest that surrounded the school. "I think Forks is going to be good to us."

"You say that about every town we move to, love," I pointed out with a chuckle. I kissed her lips quickly when she pouted.

"Where's your sense of optimism?" she asked me.

"I left it in a jail cell in Minnesota," I deadpanned in reply. She glared at me as we got into the car.

But as she fastened her seatbelt she began to laugh. I looked at her curiously.

"In retrospect, the fact you got thrown into jail is kinda funny," she admitted.

"Maybe for you, I had already started planning how to bust out of that place if they didn't allow me to have bail."

"I'm sure you would have come up with an ingenious plan," she told me with a giggle.

"Why thanks, dear," I said with a roll of my eyes, causing her to smirk at me.

A few minutes later, she began humming under her breath. It took me a few seconds to realize it was the theme tune to The Great Escape. I turned to glare at her.

"Edward's right, you do need to work on your glaring," she informed me with a smile.

"We're home," I said as I pulled into the garage, effectively ignoring her last comment.

"Want to help me knock a wall down?" she asked with a grin as we got out of the car.

"How can I say no to a offer like that?"

~o~ ~O~ ~o~

Several hours later, my first day at Forks hospital was getting off to a slow start, allowing my thoughts to drift back repeatedly to my wife and children, wondering how the latter was doing at school and how the former was doing with making sure our temporary supports supported the floor above while we replaced the entire outer wall.

An emergency page pulled me from my thoughts. I quickly rushed to the ER.

"What happened?" I asked the medic.

"Motorcycle crash," he explained. I looked at the boy on the trolley – he couldn't have been older than sixteen. As always, I hated seeing someone throwing their lives away recklessly.

The boy would be lucky. We had managed to save his life, but his recovery would be a slow and painful process. I walked away from the boy's bed, to find a man who looked like he was with the police waiting for me.

"Are you Dr. Cullen?" he asked me. I nodded. "Charlie Swan, chief of police." He held out his hand and we shook briefly. "I guess it's true what they say about doctors and cold hands," he joked. I smiled politely – I had heard that joke one too many times over the centuries, though I suppose I should be thankful to that stereotype, for it made explaining the coolness of my hands much easier to my patients.

"Will he be OK?" he asked anxiously, nodding his head in the direction of the boy's ned.

I nodded. "His injuries were severe, but we've managed to give him a blood transfusion and reaffix his broken bones. He wouldn't be going on a motorcycle again for a while though," I said grimly. Chief Swan shook his head.

"Death traps they are. Skidded and collided with an oncoming car. He's lucky he's not dead." I nodded gravely. "Anyway, I needed an official doctor's opinion on his injuries for the report."

"Of course," I agreed amiably. I looked towards the sleeping patients. "Perhaps we should have this discussion in my office." He nodded his agreement and followed me to my office. We were halfway through the conversation when the phone rang. I smiled when I saw the Caller ID.

"My wife," I explained to the chief. I picked up the phone. "Hello, love."

"Hello, Carlisle. I was just phoning to make sure your first day at work was going OK." I laughed gently. It was a running joke between us for her to make sure I was OK on my 'first day at work.'

"I'm fine, dear. I was just speaking to the Chief of Police-"

"What'd you do this time?" she interrupted jokingly. I laughed gently at her.

"Nothing. There's just been a accident."

"Oh, I'll talk to you later. The children should be home soon anyway."

"They should be home abut four," I told her.

"Bye, I love you," she told me.

"I love you, too," I replied and she hung up. Still smiling, I put the phone down and turned my attention back to the Chief of Police.

"Just checking up on me on my first day," I said jokingly. He laughed. "It's the children's first day at a new school as well."

"Well, you don't have to worry about that. The Forks elementary school is excellent." I didn't know whether to be amused or saddened by the Chief's misunderstanding. Of course, he would expect a couple in their twenties to have young children, but it was a reminder of the one thing I could never have with Esme. Not that we didn't love our adopted children.

"Actually my children are in high school," I corrected him. I saw the surprise flash across his face before he attempted to hide it. "They're all adopted," I explained.

"How old are they?" he asked.

"Edward and Alice are fourteen, and Rosalie, Emmett, and Jasper are fifteen."

"That's a lot of children, doc. I only have the one, my daughter." The Chief suddenly became uncomfortable.

"What's she called?" I asked politely.

"Isabella," he answered. "She's fourteen."

"Oh, so she'll be in Edward and Alice's year."

"No, she lives with her mother in Phoenix," he replied uncomfortably. "Anyway, about these damn bikes. My deputy suggested doing a sort of awareness program. Children need to know about the risks."

"Of course they do," I replied. And though neither of us acknowledged it, there was a grim understanding between us as fathers. No matter that Charlie Swan didn't live with his daughter and my children were all but indestructible. A father always worries about his children – no matter what.

~o~ ~O~ ~o~

As always, Esme was in the doorway to greet me when I arrived home.

"How was your first day?" she asked after kissing me thoroughly.

"A boy came in badly injured after falling of a motorcycle," I told her. "He'll be OK," I added quickly before she could ask. "But aside from that rather boring."

"Was that the accident you mentioned?" she asked and I nodded.

We walked into the living room in time to hear Emmett say he still didn't understand why we currently only had three walls in the living room.

"Esme would you like to explain it again or shall I?" Rosalie remarked sarcastically.

"I understand it's being replaced. It's just seems a bit strange to do so while we're living here," Emmett replied back.

Esme sighed. "I know I usually do all the major work before we move in but, I, I just wanted us to be together again as soon as possible," she remarked sadly. I wrapped my arm around her waist, stroking it comfortingly.

"Oh, fair enough," Emmett remarked, looking at his mother sadly.

"So, how was school?" I asked to all my children in an attempt move the conversation on for Esme's sake.

"Same as always," Edward replied. "Forks is no different to anywhere else. Same boring human minds. Same mundane human lives. It's not like anything of interest will ever happen here."


	9. AN: Watching From The Outside

I have decided to make 'Watching From The Outside' a seperate story, you can find it on my profile. The second chapter has just been published.

For those of you who didn't read the first chapter when it was posted here, it is an outtake of sorts showing Edward's POV of how Carlisle and Esme fell in love, based on Part 2 of Their Lives and Loves.

I hope you all enjoy it!


	10. Outtake: Cullen Family Conversation

**Bella tries to discuss life after her transformation, Emmett hijacks the conversation.**

**A rather silly Cullen family conversation that insisted on being written.**

**Set during Eclipse before the compromise.**

* * *

2006

_Emmett_

"What's it like?" she asked. She turned her big brown eyes on us all questioningly, purposefully ignoring the disgruntled look on her boyfriend's face.

"Transformation?" Esme asked quietly. Bella shook her head. No, she had already been given a very clear idea about the painful fires that she would suffer through as part of the transformation she would soon be undertaking. And none of us wanted to talk about that – it was hardly anyone's favourite memory.

"No, waking up," she said quietly.

"A lot nicer than transforming," I told her with a smirk.

"Weren't you confused?"

"Nope." I purposefully popped the 'p', just to annoy Eddie boy.

"Emmett," he said sternly, glaring at me. Edward always was amusing in a temper. "You thought you'd been apprenticed into a harem of mixed sex angels."

All my family turned to stare at me incredulously then. Even Rosalie looked confused for a second, before her face settled into the 'I have to put up with this idiot' look, as my siblings had nicknamed it. I did not appreciate the nickname, surprisingly enough.

"What? It's plausible," I defended, knowing it was useless.

"No," Jasper informed me with faked sombreness, shaking his head. "It's not."

"A harem of mixed sex angels?" Alice repeated with a smirk. "What exactly did you think you were going to have to do?" She was only asking the question for the sport of having me answer in front of everyone.

"Well, Alice, usually in a harem one-" I began but was cut off by Carlisle. Spoilsport.

"Yes, Emmett, we all know what a harem is. And I think we can all work out what a male in a harem would do," he said tiredly. He pointedly glanced over at Bella. Like an eighteen-year-old in this era hadn't heard much worse. Or done much worse if their boyfriends weren't turn-of-the-century prunes. I didn't even need to look at Edward to know he was glaring at me again.

"But whose harem did you think it was?" Alice asked. Edward's smirk became more pronounced - I was certain he was planning how to get me back for the prune comment. I glanced over to look at my parents, who seemed to be trying their best to ignore our conversation.

"God's," I answered simply. Though I bet the little psychic pixie already knew the full answer and was trying to get me to announce it. Well, I wasn't going to play her game.

My wife, however, gave me away.

"Didn't you think Carlisle was God when you first woke up?" she asked innocently. Innocent my arse!

Alice and Jasper burst out laughing. Edward was still smirking, the annoying little know-it-all. Bella looked vaguely confused but was smiling. Carlisle looked like he didn't know whether to be amused or disgusted, while Esme was having a hard time hiding her own amusement.

"So what?" Jasper asked. "Did you think you and Carlisle were going to have to-"

"Jasper!" Carlisle scolded.

"I was just asking," he stated with false sweetness. He suddenly looked thoughtful. "Weren't Edward and Rosalie there, too?"

Beside me, my wife shuddered. She turned to stare angrily at me. "Tell me you never thought that I…" she let the end of the sentence hang, obviously not wanting to finish it.

"No, of course not," I said quickly.

"Really?" Edward asked.

_Shut it! _I thought threateningly. _There's plenty of things I can tell Bella about you._

My brother, however, chose not to shut his blood hole (since it was hardly a cake hole). "Because I distinctly remember you looking at Rosalie and wondering if only God was allowed to touch the angels."

"No," Rosalie said waspishly. "God is not allowed to touch the angels."

Carlisle opened his mouth to make a reply and then promptly shut it again, deciding against it.

"What Carlisle was going to say was he had no desire to touch any angels, thank you," Alice informed us all, mimicing Carlisle's rarely used sarcastic tone.

"That's actually good to know," Rosalie replied, surprising us all by her lack of temper. "What?" she asked scathingly. "Where you expecting me to want to be part of Carlisle's harem?" She shuddered again, theatrically. We all laughed at that, except Bella who was sat there staring at us all open-mouthed. I don't think she had ever seen our family quite like this before.

"Any angels?" Esme questioned, turning on her husband. The look she gave him was a perfect mix of hurt indignation and resentment. We all know she was acting.

"Except you, dear," he quickly amended, kissing her.

"Better," she said smugly. "Now, if we could move the conversation on from my husband having a mixed sex harem of angels, please."

"Sure," I said. This time it was my turn to smirk over at Edward, while carefully reciting yesterday's football results. Alice give a little squeak of amusement as I'm sure she saw what I was about to say.

"Emmett," Edward growled warningly.

I focused on Bella, who was watching me with worried intrigue. I directed my question at her.

"Who wants to hear all about the time Esme walked in on Edward masturbating?"

_I warned you there was plenty of things I could tell her about you._

"Emmett! For the last time. I. Was. Not. Masturbating. I was getting dressed!" I loved getting Edward to the point where he threw a hissy fit. Having Bella watch it was an added bonus.

"Yeah." I drew the word out disbelievingly. "And Esme just happened to walk in when your cock was out!"

"Emmett!" Esme sent me a warning look. I sat back, ready to watch the scene unfold. Sweet little Bella was looking at her boyfriend as though she'd never seen him before.

"But you, you never," she stammered. "You're always so… controlled."

"Because I have to be, love," he told her.

"But when your by yourself," she continued.

"There's no need," Jasper chimed in, grinning manically at his brother.

"Again. I. Was. Not. Masturbating," Edward said forcefully.

"You know, son, it's perfectly normal to-" I wasn't certain if Carlisle was winding him up or just going into doctor mode. I hoped it was the former, nothing better than reaching the point where even Carlisle was teasing Edward. (Getting Esme to join in though, was the true high point.)

"Ugh, can I not have this speech again, Carlisle?"

"Again?" I echoed gleefully, alongside Alice and Jasper.

"Again?" Bella squeaked a few seconds later.

Edward did not look pleased with himself. Someone was going to be having a very interesting conversation with the girlfriend tonight. And judging by the way Carlisle was watching him and Bella disapprovingly, with our father as well.

"Can we please talk about something else?" he asked. Bella was still staring at him, wide-eyed.

"What if I want to talk about this?" she asked stubbornly.

"You really should discuss things like this together," Esme told them. Carlisle nodded his approval at her words.

"Why, did you two?" I asked. Carlisle had been alone for over two hundred years, surely he had to have snuck one out at some point.

"I just meant sex in general," Esme answered aversively. "It's good to discuss these things as a couple."

Edward grimaced at her. He then turned his grimace on our father, who I could only assume was adding to the conversation mentally.

"Or we could just accidentally nearly have sex in an office, that works as well, right?" he asked, sweetly. Overly sweet. The smirk was back. I much preferred it when it wasn't aimed at me.

Now everyone was gaping at the pair of them. If they had been human they would have been bright red by now. Esme was trying to hide her face in Carlisle's shoulder.

"I, well," Carlisle stammered. "I don't like nicknames!" he protested.

"I'll make sure to remember that," I replied with a grin.

"He particularly likes to be called-" I don't know what Carlisle must have thought at Edward then, but he shut up quickly enough.

"So this has been an interesting Cullen family conversation, as always," I commented jollily. I looked over at Bella, still staring at us all in open-mouthed shock. "Welcome to the family, lil sis," I said with a smile. "Aren't you happy to join us?"

She just gaped a little longer, before smiling. No, smirking. She picked that smirk up from her bloody boyfriend. "Depends," she said slowly, as if she was really chewing over the words. She looked round at us all, conspiringly. "You're not really a harem, are you?"

We all smiled at her then. Yes, she was definitely a part of this family now.

"Well, Bella, the thing is-" Carlisle began with a grin.

"NO!" everyone else but Esme shouted over us. She was just laughing at her husband's antics.

"Good to know," Bella replied with a grin. "I should be getting home," she said to Edward, standing up.

"Of course, love," he agreed.

_Have a fun conversation, _I thought after him as they left. In a movement too quick for Bella to see, he flashed the finger at me. I snorted at that. I could count on one hand the numbers of times I had managed to make Edward that angry. And three of them were to do with the masturbation incident.

"I really wish you wouldn't bring that up," Esme sighed once they had left. "I only said it _looked_ like he was. And I was talking to Carlisle."

"Super-sensitive hearing comes in useful," I commented with a grin. "And what did you threaten Edward with to get him to shut up like that?" I asked Carlisle. "Whatever it is, can I use it?"

"Us too," Alice and Jasper chimed in.

"I've never felt Edward so apprehensive," Jasper commented.

"No," Carlisle replied simply.

"Why not?" I asked.

"It's a special paternal piece of blackmail," he informed us calmly, though he was trying his hardest not to smirk and his eyes were glittering mischievously. A very un-Carlisle-like look

"Oh," Esme said, eyes wide in understanding. "That."

"Is really annoying," I added.

Carlisle shrugged. "Edward just doesn't appreciate some of my speeches."

"Basically, he's a baby who doesn't want a sex talk," Rosalie summarised acidly.

I laughed heartily. "Now I know what to threaten him with!" I remarked gleefully.

"No," Carlisle and Esme said sharply. I hate when they do the in sync parenting thing.

"Well, he does need one," Alice commented. She shared a significant look with our parents.

"What?" I asked. "It's not like he'd dare touch Bella!" Beside me, Rosalie scoffed.

"As much fun as discussing Edward's sex life, or lack thereof, is," Jasper commented dryly.

"So?" Alice asked, her eyes back on me. She was grinning her mischievous elf grin. "Harem of angels?"

"Angel," Esme corrected, her eyes pinned on her husband.

Carlisle chuckled. "Of course, dear. There's only one angel in my life."

* * *

**Random, I know! This is what happens when you write fanfic in the early hours of the morning!**

**Still, reviews are greatly appreciated!**


	11. Update: Fireside

**I was suppose to be changing a grammatical error and found myself adding a lot more detail so here is the newly improved Fireside chapter.**

**Also for those who don't know yet:**

**Both Their Lives and Loves and The Outtakes have been nominated for a Hopeless Romantic Awards (awards dedicated to celebrating non-Edward-and-Bella pairings.) Voting doesn't open till the 18th July, but there's some really good stories that have been nominated that you might want to check out or if you know of another good non-Edward-and-Bella story that you feel deserves to be nominated then the website is: **

**www(.)hopelessromanticawards(.)blogspot(.)com**

**(Remove the brackets.)**

* * *

1921

_Carlisle_

I couldn't help but smile to myself as I got nearer to my home. For the last twenty hours I had been stuck at the hospital due to an accident in one of the nearby factories. Though I enjoyed my work immensely, it had been my one and only comfort while I was alone, I now had my family to consider. My smile widened a little bit as at the fact that I was no able to say 'my family'. Due to my workload I felt I might have been neglecting them recently, especially Esme, who I'd been forced to leave alone in the house when the time for my shift came, much as I hated to.

Her presence in my life had made a big change in ways I was still struggling to understand. What I did know for certain was that she was overall a much warmer, happier person than Edward, who was often withdrawn and sullen. Though I love my son very much, I found myself more excited by the thought of returning from the hospital to see Esme than I had when returning to Edward back at the start.

As I arrived near our home I was surprised to note my son's trail leading away from the house, and into the forest. I would have assumed he had taken Esme out to hunt, but I could sense she was still in the house. I smiled happily once more as I inhaled her intoxicating floral scent. The smile slipped from my face as a different scent entered my nostrils, infused with hers. That wasn't right. That couldn't be right.

Before I could stop them, some of my least favourite memories began to play inside my mind. The blurry face of young girl burned at the stake on false pretences. My father's imposing voice scolding me, reminding me that if I were a sinner then I to I would die in the fires. The memory then became a much clearer one, the pieces of a rule-breaking vampire, thrown into a bonfire in the large hall of the Volturi's castle. The nauseating smell vampire flesh made as it burnt and the strangely mystical purple smoke that trailed up from the fire that had killed them.

I heard my medical bag fall to the floor with a heavy flump as I dropped it, but I did not heed it any attention.

I felt my breathing stop. I could almost feel the ferocious beating of a heart, but that was memory and not fact.

The scent was coming from the living room. The combined mixture was sickening. The sweet smell of jasmines and the cloying scent of smoke, two scents that should never belong together. For a flower would never smell sweet again once it had burned.

_What has happened here? Esme? Is she OK? Is she safe? And Edward? Where is Edward?_

"Carlisle?" Esme's timid voice broke through my panic. Unknowingly I had rushed into the living room all but blinded by fear and simply following her scent. She was sat on the sofa, knitting needles in hand. Beside her she had lit a fire in our previously never used fireplace.

"Esme!" I exclaimed. I felt the giddy relief that washed through me, swiftly replacing the dread. If I were human I knew I would have to be clinging to something at this point for I would have been shaking so badly.

She was watching me curiously. Her head was tilted slightly to the side and though I could see she was trying her best to hide it, her facial expressions made her confusion all too clear.

"Are you alright?" she asked timidly.

"Yes, fine. Sorry. I didn't mean to scare you." How stupid I must have looked running into this room all aflutter when all she was doing was knitting by a fire. As I calmed down I realized just how irrationally I had acted. I had known she was safe, had been able to sense her presence in our house, along with the fact that nobody else was there. Which reminded me of my earlier question.

"Where's Edward?"

"Oh, um … he went to hunt," she replied hesitantly. I couldn't help but note the uncertainty of her words. I did not believe her to be lying but I could tell she was not telling me the whole truth. After I had stood observing her for a few seconds, she looked down shyly, intensely scrutinising her hands. They were now folded together in her lap, the knitting needles forgotten. I might have just been being paranoid but it was like she was unable to look me in the eyes for some reason.

"Alone?" I asked, confused. _Why would Edward go out to hunt and leave her alone?_

"I, um, asked him to." She had picked the knitting needles up again and was studying them intently, trying to count the stitches. I could see her lips forming the numbers. It was obviously supposed to signal the end of the conversation, but I decided not to take the hint. After all, her answer had only served to confuse me even more. _Why would she wish to be left alone when she had been alone all afternoon thanks to my shift at the hospital?_

"Didn't you wish to go with him?" I couldn't understand why a newborn would pass up the opportunity to hunt. She shook her head, still not looking up from her lap. I had to resist the urge to reach across and tilt her head up towards me, so that I could look into her beautiful almond-shaped eyes.

"Why not? Is something wrong, Esme?" I asked as kindly as possible.

"What?" Finally, she looked up. But her eyes were apprehensive and secretive. Like she had a secret she did not wish me to find out. "Oh no. I just … needed a moment to think. Alone." She looked away again as she spoke, staring once more at the wool in her lap.

_Think? Think about what? Clearly something is bothering her, but what? Is she finally growing upset about her change? Is she planning to leave?_ Sorrow seeped through me at the thought. I didn't want her to leave. Even though she had only been with us for a month, I couldn't imagine going back to how it had been before – just Edward and me. I had always claimed that if Edward and her wished to leave it was their choice, I would not take that away from them and force them to stay. But if Esme told me she was leaving would I be able to stand by and say nothing? The answer to that was simple – no. I wouldn't be able to. I would beg her to stay if I had to, for the idea of her leaving was unthinkable.

"What were you so worried about?" she asked quietly. She was looking at me once more. I could feel the gaze of her eyes on me. I didn't know how to answer her. "When you arrived home?" she expanded, mistaking my slowness in answering for confusion. Her question reminded me of the fire. I had been trying to block out the sound of it crackling behind me. Most people would have called the sound merry, but to me it sounded menacing. A reminder that my life would one day end in fires. 'Because you're a demon, boy', my father's voice told me in my head.

I shook my head, as if to shake his voice away. Esme was still watching me intently. Her eyes were a sparkling ruby colour today, meaning she had hunted recently. That made the fact that Edward had supposedly gone to hunt even more puzzling. For why would he need to hunt now when he had been hours previously. For he knew better than to let her hunt alone. But what would she hide from me?

"Carlisle?" Esme's call distracted me from my thoughts. Her voice was tentative – obviously uncertain about what she was doing.

"Sorry," I apologised. "What did you say?"

"What were you so worried about when you arrived home?" she repeated. Her gaze had still not left mine. No doubt she was perplexed by my baffling behaviour. I had been acting nothing but strange towards her since my arrival home.

"Oh, um, nothing. I'm fine," I mumbled aversively. She looked at me sceptically, raising one eyebrow at me. I wondered if she knew Edward sometimes gave me the exact same look. Maybe she had picked it up of him.

An awkward silence followed as neither of us said anything for a few seconds.

"No, you're not," she challenged. Her sudden change of tone took me by surprise, all her shyness appeared to have abruptly disappeared. She was still watching me expectedly.

"No," I found myself agreeing. "I'm not."

"So what's wrong?" she asked.

I wanted to change tack once more and returning to lying about being fine. But I realized by doing so I would be doing exactly what she had been doing, hiding the truth. This averseness of both our parts was never going to get us anywhere.

From the very start I had been honest with Edward, it was difficult not to be considering his gift. It had been relieving to be able to be completely truthful with someone at last. He had never said it, but I got the feeling it had been this honesty among other things that had gotten him to trust me and, dare I say it, love me during our early years together.

_Surely I owe Esme the same honesty._

I sighed deeply and prepared to lay my soul out bare to the wonderfully curious woman watching me.

"I noticed the fire. It worried me," I admitted simply, sending a quick glare in the named object's direction.

"Oh, I'm sorry," she said quickly, hands flying to her face. "I didn't know."

I chuckled, somewhat more darkly than intended. "No, no. It's fine," I tried to assure her. I doubted it was very reassuring.

"Why?" She tilted her head to the side once more. "Why did it worry you?" She was looking at me with the same look of confusion she had worn before. Her brow was furrowed and even her delicate little button nose was screwed.

"Do you remember what I told you?" I asked. She looked thoughtful but didn't reply. "About vampires?" I prompted and then paused. I didn't want to scare her.

"Which bit?" She nibbled at her lip nervously.

"The part about how you … destroy vampires." The last two words left my tongue reluctantly. She gasped then, finally understanding what I meant.

"I smelled the scent of fire, and I panicked. Even though earlier I had noticed you where in the house, I thought something, something had happened to you." I trailed off as I said the last part, my mind lost in what might have been. _I've only just found her again. I can't lose her this time._

She was still watching me, her eyes brimming with concern. "It's OK now. I'm fine. But, you," she tilted her head in the opposite direction, " you still seem … scared by it."

I let out a sigh and a slightly sarcastic chuckle. "It's a long story," I told her. Indeed it was, starting in seventeenth century England.

"We have all day. Tell me," she said encouragingly.

"I guess I should start at, well, the start then." She smiled slightly at that. Even in my melancholy mood her smile managed to cheer me up for just a second.

"Sit down," she encouraged, patting the sofa cushion beside her. I was more than happy to oblige her.

"I was born in England in the 1640's-" I was cut off when she gasped.

"Sorry. I knew you were older than you looked, and immortal. But I never imagined centuries. Decades maybe, but not centuries." Of course, she had not fully gotten her head round the idea of immortality yet. _If she thinks I'm old, wait till I tell her about the Volturi._

"My mother died in childbirth, and my father was an Anglican pastor. I barely remember my human life now, but one of the things I do remember is his harsh brand of religion. He used to claim people were demons, and, and burn them at the stake." I could see Esme was on the verge of saying something but I continued relentlessly, wanting to tell her everything now I had started. "There is one, one burning I remember, not clearly, but more so than the others, even though I was only a child myself. They, they burned a young girl, and, in my naïve youth, I just couldn't understand why. But my father, he was determined in his cause, sure of her guilt. Afterwards, once we got home, he told me that if I defended the guilty, then I to would one day end up being bound to the stake and burned."

I could still remember the words clearly, despite all the centuries that had past. They were the clearest words of my father's I still had, because of how much they had cut through me. The thrashing I had been given beforehand had been the worse of my human life, but as much as the sting of his belt had hurt, the words delivered afterwards had hurt more.

"And so my fear of fire was born…" The words were meant to be offhand, but they just came out sounding bitter. "Learning, over a century later, that fire is the only way to kill our kind didn't help." I closed my eyes, lost in memory. "Maybe my father was right and it's nothing more than I deserve." The last sentence came out unbidden, a fear I had carried with me for centuries but never voiced out loud.

"Carlisle." Esme's voice made me open my eyes once more. Timidly, she moved closer and linked her hands into mine, her slender fingers sliding into the gaps between my own. They were soft and warm and undeniably feminine. I couldn't help but be amazed by how snugly her smaller hand fitted inside my own. The only way of describing it was that it felt right.

"You're a good man," she told me forcefully. She lifted her own gaze from our interlocked eyes to stare into my eyes as she said the words, truly forcing her words across. "Your father was wrong. You don't deserve a fate like that, and you never did, nor will you ever. You've spent centuries, _centuries,_ working to save lives. You saved Edward and me. And never, never in all that time, have you killed someone, despite becoming a vampire." I looked down at our interlocked hands once more, unable to look her in the face and tell her she was wrong. But even as I tried to deny her words there could be no denying that my heart soared at them. Not just the words themselves, but to hear them uttered from her mouth.

"Carlisle?" Her voice was questioning, beseeching me to look at her. I had no choice but to do so and when I chanced a glance into her eyes I could tell that she had meant every word she had just said. _I don't deserve her kind words. _"You're a good man," she repeated, more fiercely this time. She squeezed my hands gently as she did so and my own automatically held on tighter.

"Thank you," I managed to choke the words out, so overcome with emotion I couldn't say anything else.

"What did you do? Once you woke up, I mean. Did you, did you know what you were?" she asked.

I nodded. "I knew what I was. Vampires had been one of the many demons my father had hunted after, and once he grew too old the duty fell to me. I, I couldn't order the deaths of innocent people like he did, but I found a true coven of vampires in the sewers of London. I had led the hunt for them. Once I'd been attacked, I knew what my father would do if he found me, so, fearing the fires of the stake, I forced myself to hide. I ended up in a cellar, under a pile of rotting potatoes. Only then did I realize I was condemning myself. Once I woke up … I was… disgusted by myself, and determined not to harm any humans." I stopped then, remembering what my plan to stop myself had been. It had only been a month since Esme had herself taken the same course of action I had attempted, I didn't want be so callous as to discuss my own attempts with her so shortly afterwards.

"What did you do then?" Esme asked quietly, noticing I had stopped.

"I, I found an alternative. Discovered I could live off animal blood instead."

"How? How did you find that out at first?" There could be no denying her insatiable curiosity.

"I hid in a cave, far away from humanity. By chance, a herd of deer went past me."

"Why were you hiding in a cave though? Were, were you hoping to die?" She whispered the last words as realization flickered in her eyes. "You were trying to kill yourself?" she murmured understandingly. Reluctantly, I nodded. "Why, why did you hid in a cave though? Were you hoping to starve to death? Wouldn't it have been simpler to jump…" Her voice trailed off. She took a deep breath and swallowed carefully before continuing. "To jump of a cliff, or something?"

"I tried," I admitted softly. "But killing yourself as a vampire is near impossible. I'm thankful for that now though. I would never have got the family I now have if I'd been successful and there's nothing more I could ask for in this world."

"You were being unselfish," she murmured the words so quietly I barely heard them.

"Pardon?" I asked, trying to keep my voice calm. Her reaction was frightening me. The look on her face was startling. It was a look of pure devastation.

"When I, I jumped, I did it for selfish reasons. I was just… unable to go on. You, you were trying to save others." She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, as though to steady herself, even though she no longer needed the air. Her eyes flickered open again. "I suppose I should tell you my story now," she commented sadly.

My curiosity was undeniably piqued, but I wasn't going to demand that she tell me.

"You don't have to tell me anything you don't want to," I said reassuringly.

"No. No, I need to." There was a short pause as she bite her lip nervously. She pulled her hands out of mine, much to my sorrow, and began twisting and turning them in her lap. Her knitting lay forgotten on the floor. Unwilling to push her, I waited until she was ready to start speaking.

"You know I jumped off the cliff because my son died, and I assume you know I was married." I nodded and cautiously took her hands in mine as she had done for me earlier. When she didn't pull them away I took that as a good sign and squeezed them gently, trying my hardest to be encouraging. "And I told you about my sister Grace, at the hospital?" I gave her another nod and another gentle squeeze. "I never wanted to get married and I got a job teaching at the local school. It was an idea I got because I used to teach Grace. I wanted to move west to teach, but in the end I decided I couldn't leave my sister behind. When I was twenty-two I lost my job, and just a few months afterwards the son of an old family friend proposed. I had no choice but to accept. I had no job, I knew my parents expected me too, and I still wanted to stay close to Grace. His name was Charles Evenson, and I barely knew him. Once we were married, I soon realized he was … he was not a nice man." Her words trailed of quietly but it was easy to understand what she was implying. Images of her scared human body filled my mind as her words confirmed what I had feared. I was filled with anger towards this vile man, this Charles Evenson, who could do such terrible things to someone like Esme. It was a foreign experience to me, never had a felt such hatred for one person.

She swallowed loudly before continuing. Her voice was still shaking slightly. "When I found out I was pregnant, I thought I had no option but to stay. But when we went to see my parents they, they told me they'd sent, sent Grace to an asylum." She started to sob then, uncontrollable sobs. I let go of her hands and instinctively pulled her into my arms, rubbing her back comfortingly.

"It was my fault," she sobbed into my shoulder. "They sent her because she overheard me when I told them about Charles. If I'd never gone to them, maybe she would still be alive. They'd never had sent her away, and she never would have died in that terrible place. And maybe, maybe if I'd never run away, then William would have survived. But now, now they're both dead, and it's all my fault."

"Ssshhh," I murmured soothingly. "It wasn't your fault. It was all out of your control. There was nothing you could have done."

"I should have tried, like you did. You save people on a daily basis, and I couldn't even save the two people who were most important to me."

"You did try. You protected your sister the best you could, against all odds. You ran away to protect your son from a violent father. You did the best you could." I tried to make my voice as sincere as possible, praying she would hear it and believe me. For a minute she didn't say anything, just continued to cry tearlessly into my shoulder. Then she pulled away, pushing herself out of my arms.

_Why is she doing that? Does she wish I would just leave her alone?_

"Why did you save me?" The question took me by surprise. _She was honest with me; I guess she deserves more honesty in return._

"I remembered you. From the hospital in Columbus. There, there was something special about you that I could never forget. I tried, thinking it wasn't safe for the both of us for me to think of you. But when I saw you in that morgue, nearly dead, I had to save you. I couldn't lose you … not again." She looked surprised at my words. I had probably scared her, basically admitting I had been obsessed with her. But the truth was out there now and I couldn't take it back.

"But why me? You must have treated hundreds, thousands, of people. What's so special about me?" Her question stopped me short. How could I possibly put into mere words the ways she was special? Before I could even begin to answer she began to sob again in earnest, as though she simply couldn't hold it back.

"Esme? Esme, what's wrong?" I called frantically. I scooted nearer to her on the sofa, wishing to pull her into my arms once more. Though her words were indiscernible among her sobs, I managed to catch the words 'broken' and 'spoiled'.

"No, no you're not, Esme." I couldn't resist anymore, unable to sit by uselessly and watch her cry, and pulled her back into the cradle of my arms. Much to my relief she didn't resist, beginning to sob into my shoulder like before. "

You are special," I said the words with conviction. "You are kind, loving, gentle, unselfish, caring, and I love you." The last three words spilled out of my mouth from nowhere. I had not meant to say it, had not even considered the possibility until now. But now I had said it I knew it was the absolute truth.

_I love her._

Just inches away from my own, her face looked at me in total confusion. It was not, however, the same look she had given me previously. Her large ruby eyes were searching me, as if to check I wasn't lying.

_What have I done? She is clearly upset, still recovering from everything that has happened to her, and I go and drop something like that on her. That was stupid, Carlisle. Selfish. Reckless._

A thousand apologies flew through my mind, but before I could speak a single one of them she moved. Her lips crashed against mine, and then there was nothing but her. The feel of her lips against mine, the intoxicating smell of roses and jasmine that solely belonged to her. My arms tightened around her waist, pulling her closer. My mind struggled to comprehend that this was happening. That I was truly kissing Esme. It seemed to go on forever and I wished it would, but I felt her lips slowly part from mine and I reluctantly let them go.

"I love you, too." Her words were quiet, but my heart soared. "I never forgot you either. I used to daydream about you coming and rescuing me. And you did, in the end." She buried her face back into the crook of my neck and I rested my head gently on top of hers.

My mind was in a jubilant daze. _She loves me and she kissed me. She loves me and she kissed me. _The chant ran through my mind repeatedly, each time reminding me that it was true. That this really had just happened. I could not think anything more coherent.

I don't know how long we stayed like that - sat together on the sofa with my arms holding her tight against me. It could have been minutes, hours, days, or weeks. I didn't care. Both of us where too lost in our own thoughts to speak. My mind was reeling. I had found at last the one soul who completed me. Made me whole. And I had only just realized it.

"What do we do now?" Esme eventually asked into that the silence.

_That is a very good question. _

I had never felt this way before, and knew Esme hadn't either.

"Well, what were you doing before I arrived home and so rudely interrupted your morning?" I was surprised how easily the joking words came out, my awkwardness around her nearly forgotten.

"Trying to read, and then trying to knit."

"Trying?"

"I was distracted."

"By what?"

"You," she said, prodding me gently in the chest.

"Me? I wasn't even there?" I teased. She lifted her head up and narrowed her eyes playfully at me. I smiled softly at her. I had only very rarely seen this lighter side of her before and couldn't help but hope I would see it more now that all our feeling were out in the open.

"I had just realized I was in love with you, but I decided I couldn't possibly tell you."

"Clearly, that went well," I remarked. That earned me another tap on the chest.

"I prefer this outcome better," she admitted quietly.

"Me too," I murmured. This time I kissed her. It was just as good as the first time. I could do that forever – kiss Esme.

Once the kiss ended she pulled away from me and reached over the edge of the sofa. My body cried out at the loss of contact. She settled herself down on the sofa before passing me the book she had just picked up.

"Will you, will you read to me?" she asked shyly.

"There's nothing I'd like better, my dear," I told her, as I took the book and settled next to her, wrapping one arm around her shoulder. She snuggled into my chest.

As I began to read, I noticed from the corner of my eye the dying embers in the fireplace. How thankful I was she had decided to have a fire, for if she hadn't we would have probably spent more months dithering around each other, both afraid to admit their feelings to the others.

_I probably wouldn't have even realized I was in love with her for ages._

I may have feared it all my life, but in this one moment of time I was grateful towards fire. For as I sat reading to Esme, I felt like the happiest man alive.

_Indeed, I think I may be._


	12. Update: Esme

**For those of you who read Watching From The Outside, this is the scene at when Edward arrives home from Carlisle's POV. To those who haven't read it, this is an extra part to Ch. 31 'Esme' from Their Lives and Love following on from Carlisle helping Esme wash the purple dress and kissing her on the cheek.**

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1921

_Carlisle_

I stared blankly around the kitchen for a few moments before heading towards the living room, still feeling dazed. I felt myself collapse into one of the armchairs, my mind still reeling. What had overcome me? And what was this feeling? This mixture of nerves and happiness. It felt alien, like something I had felt a long time ago, too long ago for me to remember. A human memory then? But why had it returned with such force now?

_Esme._

It was because of her. There could be no denying it.

"I love vampire speed." I almost jumped out of my seat as Esme entered the room, smiling at me.

"Why's that?" I managed to organize my brain long enough to make a coherent reply.

"Well to start with it makes hanging up clothes to dry much less of a chore," she commented joyfully. "Didn't you enjoy it at first?"

I didn't know whether to answer truthfully or not. My head made a non-committal motion, neither a shake nor a nod. For at the very beginning I had seen my speed as just enough aspect that proved my inhumanity. She was staring at me expectedly, waiting for an answer.

"It does have it uses," I replied diplomatically.

"Indeed," she agreed. "But I love being able to run through the forest and see the world flash by me in a swirl of color." She looked like she was on the verge of twirling around on the spot, but instead choose to sit herself rather energetically on the chair opposite me.

It took me a few seconds to recognize the abnormality of the situation. Not since that first day as a vampire had Esme choose to sit down here with me, preferring the confines of her own bedroom. Nor had we had managed much conversation beyond the latest book she had read and the practicalities of our situation.

"Edward told me something similar as a newborn," I told her, eager to continue the conversation now she seemed comfortable talking to me. "Minus the swirl of color bit."

She giggled gently at that, but then looked down at her lap bashfully.

"How's are you finding the latest book?" I asked, falling back on familiar topics to keep the conversation going.

"Fine, thank you," she replied simply. "I might bring it down here to read actually. If that's OK?"

"Of course," I agreed. "I have a report to read anyway."

She disappeared upstairs but I noted that she had still made an improvement. That she was willing to sit here reading with me rather than hiding away timidly. I couldn't help but feel proud of her. My stomach flipped again. It was both a comfortable and uncomfortable feeling at the same time. Certainly not like anything I had felt before Esme had arrived so unexpectedly in my life a few weeks previously.

"Got it," Esme called as she re-entered room, sitting down in the same chair. She smiled shyly at me before turning her attention towards the book in her hand, flicking through the pages until she found the right one. Her eyes started scanning the words. After a few seconds though, she looked up again and caught my eye. I looked down furiously, embarrassed at being caught watching her.

_Where's that report?_

I picked it up from where I had abandoned it on the coffee table yesterday, but I couldn't concentrate on it for long. This fact did not surprise me. I couldn't help sneak glances at Esme over the top of it occasionally. She seemed quite absorbed in her current story. My mind, however, kept wandering. I kept re-running my actions earlier, trying to figure out what on Earth had possessed me.

I looked up in surprise as the door banged open. Quickly, I started to recite a page from my latest medical journal.

"So," Edward said as he joined us in the living room. "How was everyone's day?" His voice was innocent but the smirk plastered across his face was anything but.

"Fine, thank you," Esme replied, beaming. I had to resist a smile when I noticed that. It was confirmation that I had not upset her. That maybe, just maybe, she had actually enjoyed our awkward exchange in the kitchen earlier.

"What about you, Carlisle?" he asked. His voice was overly sweet and it was easy to tell that he was simply winding me up. He must have heard something from Esme's thoughts. I couldn't help but feel a twinge of irritation at my son. There was no need for him to make a game out of this, particularly in front of Esme.

Even though I knew it was pretty much pointless, I returned to reciting of the properties of the kidneys. He may have been able to hear Esme's thoughts but I wasn't overly keen to have him hear my own personal thoughts on the matter.

"Fine, thank you, Edward," I replied politely, I couldn't help but feel acutely aware of Esme's gaze, watching our conversation with interest.

"Anything of interest happen while I was gone?" he asked in the same would-be-innocent voice. It was a loaded question and we both knew it - there was no correct way of answering that question with Esme in the room. For if I said no I ran the risk of insulting her but if I said yes Edward would no doubt continue with his little game until he had forced all the information out of me anyway, which could lead her to growing annoyed at my lack of discretion.

"Nothing that would interest you I don't think," Esme answered for me and felt relief wash over me. I wondered how aware of Edward's talent she was – for surely she wouldn't have said that if she knew the full extent of it.

"I don't know, I'm sure I'd find it interesting," he countered. The sickly forced sweetness in his voice was obviously supposed to mock Esme's naturally sugary tones.

"Oh, it's nothing for you to worry about," she replied airily, standing up. I felt myself cringe a little bit inside. Edward was not going to react to that sentence well and yet it was his own fault for obviously not telling her the truth about his talent.

"Yes, no need to worry Edward with your problems," he snapped sarcastically. The anger in his voice worried me – there was a lot of resentment residing in his snide reply.

_Edward, that's enough! _I thought sternly. He was glaring at Esme furiously and I stood up from my chair to stand next to her, sensing trouble on the horizon.

"I'm going upstairs," he announced crossly. "Have fun together!" The last sentence was sneered at us, but I could hear the same underlying resentment. Esme jumped slightly at the bang he created slamming the door behind him.

She turned away from the door to face me. I deny any man to not be moved by the look of worry she shot me. "Did I say something wrong?"

"Don't worry about, Edward," I replied quietly. "He can be temperamental at times. I'll go speak with him."

_You can't deny it's true_, I thought as I headed up the stairs after him. Worried as I was by his reaction to Esme, I couldn't help but be amused by Edward's behaviour. In a way his strops were almost comforting compared to his strange sullen attitude earlier in the week. This was more typical Edward behaviour.

I raised my hand to knock on the door and wondered if he would chuckle at me for performing the very same act I always told him was pointless around vampires.

"If I tell you to go away, will you?" he asked tetchily just before my hand landed against the wood. I chuckled slightly and used the hand that was now frozen in mid-air to turn the door handle instead.

_I assume you saw what happened this morning in Esme's mind? _I asked as I entered the room. He nodded. I sighed, considering carefully how to word my explanation.

_I don't truly understand what came over me this morning, but it doesn't change anything._

He laughed darkly at my words, shaking his head at me. "Don't be so ignorant, Carlisle," he scoffed.

_Edward! _I couldn't help my indignation, he was taking things way out of proportion.

"What? It's not my fault you're being a fool!" he sneered mockingly.

"Edward!" The word came out as hiss between my teeth. His words were only adding to my earlier irritation.

"Of course it changes something," he insisted forcefully. "It changes everything, because you-" He cut off suddenly and snapped his mouth close, I heard his teeth clang together. The sound vibrated through the sudden silence. I watched him carefully, waiting to see if he would continue talking. But he just stood there looking annoyed with himself.

"Because I what, Edward?" I prompted curiously. I couldn't help it. Had Edward somehow managed to understand my own mind better than I had? It wouldn't be the first time.

"Figure it out yourself," he muttered bitterly. "Don't you have a shift to go to?" he added pointedly. It was an obvious dismissal. I pulled my pocket watch out and quickly looked at the time. Twenty minutes before I was due at the hospital, no real rush. It helped to be slightly late sometimes anyway – no human was perfectly punctual all the time.

I glanced up at my son again, trying to understand the strange mood he was in and what could have triggered it. I could not understand why he would react so badly to the growing closeness between Esme and me.

_Maybe he's jealous. It suppose to be quite a common reaction among older coven members if the creator brings a new one into the fold._

"Don't overestimate yourself," he spat at me angrily.

Too late I realized I had not disguised my thoughts, but it was not worth getting into an argument with him. There seemed very little I could say to him, especially since Esme could hear every word I said. I glanced down once more at the pocket watch still in my hand.

"I suppose I best be getting ready for my shift like you said," I finally commented, turning towards the door. But I stopped half-way through the doorway.

_Be nice to Esme while I'm gone. _I knew there was a chance my warning would only infuriate him more but I hoped he would still pay attention to it. I wished I didn't feel the need to say it at all. This was the first time I had ever considered he would be less than courteous to our new family member and it made me feel guilty to think so ill of my son.

"Wouldn't dream of being anything but," he said mockingly. I turned round to face him again, wanting to say something to make my exit less hostile, but I was greeted by the door being slammed in my face.

I sighed deeply and ran my hand through my hair, looking blankly at the closed door for a few seconds. Accepting there was nothing I could do right now, I headed to my own room to change outfits since I was still wearing what I had wore to work yesterday evening.

As I did so Edward's words continued to repeat in my head. Though his anger worried me greatly, it was his second to last sentence that intrigued me most.

_Because I what? _

It was to do with Esme, it had to be. He knew. Edward knew what was wrong with me and he wasn't going to spill anytime soon.

I tried to push it all to the back of my mind, to concentrate on my upcoming shift. But it was a near impossible task. It was only once I was half-way to the hospital I realized I had forgotten to say goodbye to them both.

Even as I went about my shift my mind continued to drift back towards the members of my family back home. Esme's cheek, silky smooth against my lips. The little smile she had wore when talking to Edward. I felt the now familiar but still uncomfortable feeling in my stomach.

"_Because you-" _Edward's words still taunted me. _Because I what?_

I was brought back to the present when I heard my current patient chuckle.

"You're lost in your own world there, doctor," she commented with a smile. I gave a half-hearted smile back.

"So," she began. Unless I was much mistaken she was smirking at me. Her expression was incredibly similar to one Edward had wore when he had walked into our living room two hours previously, uttering the same word. "Who is she?"

I found myself unable to reply, completely thrown by her question. She had said it so self-assuredly, so confident in her estimate. More so, the connation behind it was obvious. Was that what Edward had been trying to tell me? That I was attracted to Esme?

I couldn't help but think of her smile yet again at the thought. But the giddy feeling in my heart was washed away as I remembered her wide fearful eyes, her pleaded words, and a lump of squished metal. This was very last thing Esme needed.

"Someone very special," I answered truthfully. She laughed merrily at my answer.

"I'm sure she is. You must count yourself a lucky man."

My smile was once more forced. I was more than lucky to have Esme in my life, but she could never be what this woman thought she was to me. I had no right to demand that of her.

"All finished," I announced chirpily, snipping the end of the thread and inspecting the woman's stitches. She hopped lightly of the hospital bed.

"Thank you, doctor. And good luck," she said as she made her exit.

But luck had nothing to with it. I would do what was right for my family, for Esme. And what was right was to push any potential feeling aside and carry on as normal. Even as I continued on with my duties with a heavy heart, I couldn't help but wonder what my son would say when he learnt of my newest revelation.

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**Reviews are greatly appreciated :)**


	13. Outtake: Lost Vampires, Morons & Cooties

**Voting is now open for the Hopeless Romantic awards. Their Lives and Loves and Watching From The Outside have both been nominated for best Carlisle and Esme. Their Lives and Love is also nominated for best kiss. The Outtakes are nominated for best quote. If you have time to spare it would be greatly appreciated if you voted (and if you feel I deserve it, of course!) :)**

**http:(/)hopelessromanticawards(.)blogspot(.)com**

**(Remove the brackets.)**

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**Anyway, this is a random idea that occurred to me last night – I'd be intrigued to know how many of you manage to figure out what's going on during the first half.**

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It seemed like a good idea at the time. This is the only excuse Esme has for going along with Carlisle's idiotic plan.

"You're a moron!" she shouts at him, crossing her arms huffily. She tosses her hair so that her curls are flying everywhere. She is trying to look intimidating but Carlisle simply finds it amusing.

"I'm not," he argues back stubbornly.

"We're lost," she points out. "You've got us lost in the forest!"

"We're not lost," Carlisle argues back. There is something in his tone and in his stance that reminds Esme of Edward at his most stubborn. And though she loves Edward very much, boy, could he be stubborn at times. Or that's what Bella says anyway.

"We're vampires! Vampires don't get lost!" Carlisle reminds her.

Esme simply raises her eyebrows at him in obvious disdain. "You're a moron," she repeats childishly, sticking her tongue out.

"You're a moron," he argues back, managing to be even less mature than her.

"Good comeback – take you long to think of it?" She smirks at him. She had heard Jasper say that when he'd had a very similar argument with Emmett.

"Oh don't do the know-it-all act on me. You know I hate it when you act all snooty," Carlisle grumbles.

"You know I hate it when you drag me into your stupid schemes," Esme grumbles back.

"Weren't calling it stupid half an hour ago!" he points out. His words are ringed with triumph, as if this fact alone means he wins.

"We weren't lost then!" she tells him forcefully. She is glaring at him now.

"We're not lost," he argues back, stubborn to a fault.

"How do we get home then?" The disdain is clear in her voice once more.

"We'll follow our family's scents," he answers as if it was obvious.

"We can't smell them," she hisses in frustration.

He rolls his eyes. "Of course we can. We're vampires!" He shouts the last part gleefully.

Esme sighs. "I'm bored of this game," she whines. "I want to go home!"

"I don't!" he retorts.

"I do!" she shouts, stamping her foot.

"But I'm in charge!" he reminds her.

"Am not!" she protests.

"Am too!"

"Am not!"

"I'm the leader," he reminds her with a triumphant smile.

"Since when?" she asks angrily. "I never said that."

"Because I'm a boy!" he points out, smugness radiating from his smile.

"That doesn't make you the leader!" she shouts. She can't help but be indignant at his words. Who does he think he is? She tells herself she will have to tell Rosalie about this when she next sees her. Her smug smile matches Carlisle's as she imagines watching him get told off by Rose.

"Does too!"

"Does not! Boys aren't better than girls!" Her voice is getting more high-pitched as her anger grows. She can't help but feel insulted.

"Yes we are," he scoffs at her silliness.

"No! You're silly, smelly idiots!"

"At least I don't have cooties!" Carlisle points out with a smile.

"I don't have cooties!" Esme argues back ferociously.

"Yes, you do. All girls do!" His voice is laced with superiority.

"No we don't!" she shrieks.

"Yes you do!" He sticks her tongue out at her, as if to say 'ha, I win!'

"I'm going home," Esme announces in a haughty manner, pointing her head upwards to show she is above Carlisle and his silly arguments. She turns on her heels and begins stamping through the trees in no particular direction, silently fuming over Carlisle's words.

It isn't long before she hears his footsteps running toward hers. Carlisle is calling her name.

"Wait! Stop! I didn't mean it!" he shouts from somewhere behind her.

Not in the mood to be forgiving, she continues mercilessly onwards, swiping angrily at any tree branches that dare to get in her way.

Finally, after a few minutes of his shouts, she takes pity on him and waits.

"I'm sorry," he wails as runs towards her. "I didn't mean it!"

"Do I have cooties?" she asks forcefully.

He shakes his head.

"Answer the question!" she orders.

"No," he admits dully.

"No…" she prompts. She is unable to keep the victory from her voice. She knows she has won the argument this time.

He glares at her, annoyed by her gloating.

"Fine!" she huffs. She turns to stalk away again.

"Fine!" he echoes, mocking her voice. Her attitude means he is now no longer repentant. "Get yourself lost in the forest," he shouts at her retreating back. "See if I care!"

She cannot help but turn around at his words. "We're already lost!" she shrieks at him.

He rolls his eyes. "We're, like, two minutes away from home."

She looks around her at the unknown scenery and then turns to him, looking sceptical.

"Are not!"

"Are too!"

Their argument continues in this fashion for quite some time until a different voice interrupts them.

"What are you two doing all the way out here?" The voice is overly recognizable and makes them both jump, but the fondness in it tells them they are not in too much trouble.

"Carl got us lost," Esme shouts indignantly.

"Emmy wasn't planning the game properly," Carlisle shouts back instantly.

"And what game was this?" their great-grandfather asks, intrigued.

"We were playing vampires!" Carlisle shouts back. His features light up with excitement.

His namesake raises his eyebrows but is smiling. "Vampires, eh?" he chuckles.

"It was Carl's stupid idea," Esme grumbles, glaring at her brother.

"Isn't stupid!" Carlisle protests.

Their great-grandfather cuts across the argument. "You do remember you're not suppose to come into the forest without permission?" he asks sternly.

Both children look down at the floor guitily.

"Sorry, Granddad Carlisle," they both murmur.

"You scared you're Grandma Esme when she came to tell you dinner was ready and you weren't there."

"Dinner's ready?" Carlisle perks up immediately. He looks down at the floor again when his namesake looks at him disapprovingly. "We didn't mean to scare Grandma Esme," he mumbles.

"It was this moron's idea," Esme points out. She loves her great-grandmother very much and is proud to share a name with her. She didn't like to think that they had scared her.

"Don't call your brother a moron," her great-grandfather chides her gently. "And you didn't have to follow him. You could have come and told us."

Esme sighs, recognizing the truth in his words. "Sorry, Carl," she says. "You're not a moron."

"And you don't have cooties," Carlisle admits.

Their great-grandfather laughs at that. "Shall we head home then?" he asks, holding out both his hands. Both of his great-grandchildren took one and they all begin to walk home.

To both children's surprise it takes them ten minutes to arrive back at their great-grandparent's house.

"Told you we were lost," Esme tells her brother smugly.

Carlisle doesn't argue back this time. He hadn't realized they had gone that far.

Their great-grandmother is waiting for them in the kitchen door. She runs to meet them at the edge of the forest.

"What on Earth were you doing in there?" she frets, kneeling down to inspect them both. She fusses with the dirt on Carlisle's t-shirt and the rip in Esme's skirt.

"Playing vampires, apparently," her husband answers with a smile. She chuckles affectionately as she straightens up.

"You're dinner's going cold," she scolds them.

"We don't need dinner!" Carlisle tells her. "We went hunting!" he exclaims.

"And I caught a mountain lion like Granddad Edward," Esme chimes in - obviously proud of this achievement.

"I got a grizzly like Uncle Em!" Carlisle adds, so as not to be outdone by his sister.

Their great-grandparents share a look with each other and smile.

"Shall I throw your dinner away then?" their great-grandmother asks, her tone innocent.

"No!" both children shout instantly. Both adults chuckle.

"We were just pretending," Esme says as though she thinks her great-grandmother is rather silly.

"Yeah, we can't go hunting for real like everyone else," Carlisle mutters.

The look his great-grandparents share is very different this time. They had noticed the bitterness in their great-grandson's voice. The worry in their expressions is obvious.

"I wish we were real vampires," Esme sighs. Unlike her brother, her voice is longing as opposed to bitter.

"There's nothing wrong with what you are," her great-grandfather tells her softly, patting her head fondly.

They have reached the kitchen now. Her great-grandmother is busy placing two plates onto the table. "You couldn't eat my special recipe Spaghetti Bolognese if you were real vampires. And I have it on good authority it's delicious – it comes werewolf pack approved." She flashes the children a smile.

"It is yummy," Carlisle tells her. He is already at the table and eating. His face is smeared red with tomato sauce.

Esme is lifted to her seat by her great-grandfather and begins to eat, too.

"It is yummy," she agrees.

Little else is said as the two children finish their food and the adults watch them affectionately.

"Can we have ice cream?" Carlisle asks as soon as his plate is clear.

His great-grandmother laughs. "Oh, I don't know about that!" she teases.

"Please!" both children beg. Esme's mouth is still full of pasta.

Their great-grandfather laughs at the sight. "A little bit of ice cream isn't going to hurt anyone, dear," he tells his wife.

"Well, if the doctor says so," she replies with a fond smile at her husband.

Both children cheer. Esme's fork clatters as she drops it onto her now empty plate.

In no time at all, their empty plates have been replaced with full bowls of ice cream.

"When are Mommy and Daddy back from going hunting with everyone?" Carlisle asks as he eats.

"Tomorrow," his great-grandmother tells him.

"I don't think I do want to be a vampire actually," Esme announces out of thin air.

"Why not?" her great-grandfather asks, curious about her sudden change of mind.

"Because I don't think blood tastes as good as ice cream," she tells him sincerely.

He chuckles at that and he can tell his wife is resisting the temptation to laugh.

"You're probably right," he concedes fondly.

"I think she is," Carlisle adds. "Nothing beats ice cream." He shoves another spoonful into his mouth.

Esme digs her spoon into the nearest lump to produce a big heaped spoonful, which she then offers towards her great-grandfather. "Try some," she orders cheerfully.

He looks at it, trying to hide his distaste.

"It's yummy, I promise," Esme tells him. Sincerity rings in her words.

Unable to disappoint her, he eats from the pro-offered spoon, making sure not to grimace.

"Yummy," he tells her with a smile.

"Told you," she chimes.

Carlisle copies his sister's actions. "Do you want to try some, Grandma Esme?" He holds his spoon out to her,

"No, it's OK," she replies sweetly, sending an affectionate smile his way. "You enjoy your dessert, dear. But thank you."

Both children return their interest to their food and so it is only his wife who notices their great-grandfather discreetly spit the food into the sink.

"Cheater," he mutters to his wife. She smiles smugly at him.

"You were very sweet," she tells him, then kisses his cheek.

"Finished," Carlisle shouts.

"Me too," Esme shouts seconds later.

"Bedtime then," their great-grandmother announces.

"No it's not," they both protest.

"We only just had dinner," Esme points out. Her voice has unwillingly become whiny.

"Yes, but you had dinner late since you decided to wonder into the forest," their great-grandfather points out. His voice is that mixture of stern and calm they had never heard anyone but him manage.

Both children look slightly ashamed again.

"Come on," their great-grandmother chides, gently guiding Esme out of her seat. "Upstairs."

"I'm not tired," Carlisle protests as she turns to him.

"Well, I am," his great-grandmother replies, faking a giant yawn. Her husband, now ushering Esme towards the kitchen door, chuckles at her.

"You don't sleep," Carlisle says sceptically.

"Well then, if I'm tired you must be really tired."

Carlisle looks at her disbelievingly and continues not to move.

Changing tactics, she picks the boy off the chair and settles him on her hip. Recognizing defeat, he doesn't protest.

Esme attempts to stifle a yawn behind her hand.

"Come on, dear," her great-grandfather says gently, taking hold of her hand and leading her up the stairs. His wife follows behind with his great-grandson.

"Can we play werewolves tomorrow?" Carlisle mutters sleepily onto his great-grandmother's shoulder.

"I'm sure your daddy will love that," she answers sincerely.

"And Sethy," Esme adds with a happy smile. She likes Seth. He is always so nice to her.

"But no going into the forest without permission," their great-grandmother tells them both, her voice stern once more.

"OK," Esme agrees readily. "Carl'd get us lost again."

"Weren't lost," Carlisle mutters. His protests are now half-heartened at best.

"Yes we were," she argues. Her voice is shrill once more.

"Time to brush teeth," their great-grandmother announces as they arrive in the bathroom, effectively cutting across their arguing. She puts Carlisle down beside the sink. Both children abandon the argument as they do as she says.

Soon, both children are changed into their pyjamas and snuggled into bed.

"Where's Wolfie?" Carlisle calls out in panic, searching frantically through his bedding. His great-grandmother locates the stuffed wolf below his bed and passes it to him. He hugs it close in relief as she re-tucks him in and kisses his forehead.

Esme, her own teddy bear safely in her arms, turns to her great-grandfather. "Will you tell me the story about the princess who fell out of a tree again?"

"Of course, sweetheart."

* * *

**So I originally just planned to have a bit of fun with the fact that Carl and Emmy share their (full) names with their grandparents, but it expanded to include the scene once they had arrived home as well.**

**Reviews are greatly appreciated :) Did you realize who the story was about at the start?**

**Also, if you get the chance, don't forget to vote! :)**


	14. Outtake: Tanya

**Just a little context - this is after Esme has killed for a second time.**

* * *

1922

Tanya

"Carlisle, old friend!" I smiled widely as I opened the door. I went to hug him but Carlisle intercepted me, shaking my hand instead. I had hoped he may have gotten over his aversion to physical contact given recent events. (Not that any of us truly understand what had happened in Carlisle's life over the last few years.)

"Hello, Tanya." Maybe I was imagining things, but his smile seemed a little forced.

I turned my attention to the two vampires behind him. "And these must be your new… companions." I wasn't certain what else to call them, having no idea what kind of relationship Carlisle had with these two vampires that he appeared to have changed on a whim after decades of claiming he could never change anyone.

I scanned them both. The woman, Esme, was beautiful like all females of our kind. But there was a haunting effect to her beauty. An aura of sadness surrounded her, though it was difficult to put my finger on why. I noticed her orange eyes were almost lifeless. Her expression was blank. Her gaze fell over myself and my coven but there was no reaction. It was like she was completely unfeeling. It was deeply unnerving.

I quickly focused on the – was he a boy or a man? – instead. Edward. I let my gaze travel from his head to his toes, appraising him.

Well, I'd certainly like to make him a man.

He grimaced then – though he seemed to be trying to hide it – and I remembered what Carlisle had wrote in his letters about Edward's talent. He had no doubt heard what I had just thought. I was in no way embarrassed by that fact but the grimace annoyed me.

_Surely it can't be that bad a thought to you? _I resisted the urge to grin wickedly at him only because everyone was watching me. I knew my sisters would understand perfectly but I doubted Carlisle would be impressed.

"Well, come in then," I ordered them cheerfully. They followed me through the doorway. I couldn't help but wonder exactly how unimpressed Carlisle would be if he was to know exactly what I had just been thinking. After all, when we had received his letter four years ago telling us with excitement about his new creation we had all jumped to the same conclusion.

Sure, he had denied it when Irina had asked, but it was common for people of that persuasion to be in denial. Carlisle struck me as exactly the sort of person who would refuse to admit to his own sexuality. I remembered his reaction when he had first learned of mine and my sister's sexual habits. His stuttered words about sin, of all things. Yes, Carlisle was exactly the sort of person who would fight against their own homosexuality.

So it had made perfect sense to us when we decided that Carlisle had obviously found his mate in Edward and we waited for the letter that told us the two lovebirds would be coming to visit us. Which we had received just a month previously, except with the added surprise that Carlisle had changed another human, as well. A woman, this time. Well, that managed to send our certainty over his sexuality flying out the window.

I was certainly looking forward to hearing the story of exactly what he had been doing for the last four years.

And since we were all now leaning heavily towards the idea that it was actually Esme who was, in fact, Carlisle's mate, it didn't even matter for now if I was to flirt with Edward for a bit. And he was certainly flirt-worthy.

We were all stood or seated in the living room now. I had led Carlisle to the armchair that was usually mine. Edward was stood beside him, his stance relaxed. Esme had sat down on the floor by his feet. I half-expected her to lean back against his legs as Carmen was currently doing against Elezear, but her posture remained stiff. I saw Carlisle glance down at her. The expression on his face was hard to place – he somehow managed to look worried and exasperated at the same time.

Sitting down next to Kate, I appraised them again. They certainly made an odd group of people. Edward was watching his two companions looking sullen. Esme's face was still blank of emotion, but her eyes darted around the room, taking it all in. Carlisle was still looking down at the top of Esme's head, his expression had finally settled for hopeless.

"Carlisle, how lovely to see you again, amigo," Carmen commented with a smile.

"Yes, it's been awhile since you were last here," Kate said. "But then I see you've been busy. Aren't you going to introduce us to your, um, charming companions?" I saw Kate's eyes flicker to Esme as she stuttered over her description.

"This is Edward and Esme."

"It's lovely to meet you all," Edward said. Esme had forced a smile in our direction when Carlisle had said her name but that was it. Somehow, when she smiled she managed to only make herself look more depressed.

"It's lovely to meet you, too," Kate said to Edward with a smile. I sensed another competition in the making. Hopefully, he would play along a little better than his creator. Not that that hadn't been amusing.

Edward snorted at something. It took me a few seconds to realize it was most likely my memories of our failed attempts to seduce Carlisle. The mind-reading thing was going to take some getting use to.

"Tell me about it," Edward murmured sarcastically.

"Edward," Carlisle said. His voice had a warning in it, as if he was scolding the boy. It was more like watching a child get told off then watching the interaction between two coven members.

"So where did you find Edward and Esme?" Elezear asked.

"At the hospital," Carlisle answered shortly. The silence that fell told us that was the only answer we were getting.

"Would you like to go and put your belongings in the spare room now?" I asked.

"Sure, thank you," Carlisle replied. He stood up from the chair. Esme instantly also stood up, as if they were on joint puppet strings.

"Thank you," she muttered. Her voice was chillingly devoid of any emotion.

"Yeah, thanks," Edward muttered dully. Carlisle shot him a meaningful look. "I mean thank you." His voice was laced with sarcasm. Again with the parent and child thing. Except now Edward was acting like a sulky teenager.

Esme was frowning at him but didn't say anything. It was the closest I'd seen her expression to something not harrowing.

As all three of them disappeared up the stairs, I looked towards the rest of my coven. All four of them wore the same confused expression I was sure graced my own face.

"Well, they seem interesting," Irina sneered.

I glanced upwards towards where I could hear Carlisle and Edward's voices coming from the spare room. There was no doubt they would also be able to hear us.

"Pobre mujer," Carmen murmured. I knew enough Spanish after living with her for nearly a century to understand that – 'poor woman'.

All three of them re-entered the room. Edward took the armchair with a smirk in Carlisle's direction. Carlisle rolled his eyes. I laughed at his antics, smiling over at him. He either didn't notice or was ignoring me. He was apparently going to be irritatingly like his creator about this aspect.

Carlisle perched himself on the arm of the armchair beside Edward. Esme stood on the other side, her gaze fixed firmly on our coffee table for reasons best known to her.

"Thank you for your hospitality as always," Carlisle said.

"You know you're always welcome here," I told him warmly. "And Edward and Esme, too." Edward smiled politely in my direction but Esme didn't respond. Our coffee table was apparently more fascinating.

"How about a group hunt?" Kate suggested eagerly.

"We hunted two days ago, sister," I reminded her.

"I thought our visitors might be hungry."

"I'm fine, thank you," Carlisle replied. "Esme? Edward?"

"I should be fine for a few more days," Edward replied. Carlisle looked towards Esme, who shook her head.

Carlisle sighed. "Are you sure, Esme?" She didn't reply. Carlisle and Edward looked at each other. Carlisle's eyes were pleading but Edward merely shrugged. I couldn't make heads or tails of the entire situation.

"How about a game then?" Kate asked, not one to be deterred. "We should have some cards somewhere."

Edward laughed. "I think you might want me to sit out of that one."

Kate giggled. "I'm sure we could find some game that you can't cheat in." She thought for a minute. I noticed Edward's eye widen in alarm just before she spoke again. "How about snap? You can't cheat at that."

Esme took a deep, gasping breath as though she was about to start sobbing. Her eyes shone with tears she could no longer cry.

"Esme," Carlisle murmured. His voice was tender and caring. He stood up from the chair's arm and moved around the back of it towards her. He reached his arm out to comfort her, but she stepped backwards as if to escape him. He pulled his arm back and froze. Her eyes bored into his for a few moments and then she was gone. I heard the room to the spare room slam shut. Carlisle stood in her wake, staring at the door she had just exited, looking utterly defeated.

Edward was watching Carlisle, concerned. "Carlisle?" he called.

"I'm fine, son," Carlisle said, but his voice was harsh and rugged. I was so taken in by his pain it took me a few seconds to recognize the importance of the word 'son'. So Carlisle saw himself as Edward's father. I felt the prick of pain at the thought – of having a creator who was also a parent. Instead I focused on Carlisle's family. Did he see himself as Esme's father as well? It seemed doubtful. She looked older than him (at least physically) for a start. Then what was she? His mate? I remembered her backing away fearfully from his touch, that was not the actions of one's mate. But judging by Carlisle's misery he wished to be hers. Or was it simply that he did not like to see his – daughter? Friend? Would-be-lover? – upset. Carlisle was compassionate enough for that to be the answer and yet it felt like more than that.

"What's her problem?" Irina asked.

"Esme has had … difficulties adjusting to this life," Carlisle replied cautiously. Again, it was very obvious that he was closing the subject.

Uncomfortable silence settled around all once more.

"So what would everyone like to do?" Elezear asked. The neutral tone of his voice was clearly forced.

Carlisle was clearly going to unresponsive, so I turned to Edward instead. "Carlisle wrote that you were very musical. We have a piano in the parlour, but none of us really use it. Both Kate and I attempted to learn but neither of us had the patience."

"I'm not that good," Edward said cautiously.

Carlisle chuckled slightly, breaking out of his previous melancholy. "Don't be so modest, Edward. He's a phenomenal piano player," he told us, sounding every inch the proud father.

"Well, you just have to show me," I ordered. Almost reluctantly, Edward followed me into the parlour. None of my sisters or Elezear followed – I assumed they planned to ambush Carlisle in regards to Esme.

I leaned against the top of the piano as he took his seat at the bench. He still looked incredibly uncomfortable and I was irresistibly reminded of Carlisle looking just as awkward in my presence decades ago.

_Like father, like son, I suppose._

Edward chuckled slightly then. I'd all but forgotten about the mind-reading by now.

"You'd be surprised how easily people do," he commented.

"You must hear a lot of things you don't want to."

"Indeed. And for the record, Carlisle is my father and has never been nor wanted to be anything more."

"And Esme?" I asked.

"Nope, neither has she." He was smirking at me.

"I meant her and Carlisle." I wasn't irritated by his sarcasm though, just amused.

"That," he said with heavy emphasis. "Has become complicated."

"Has become?" I questioned.

He sighed. "It's not my story to tell."

I wanted to ask if she was Carlisle's mate or not, but I could tell he wouldn't be willing to answer. I suppose if I wanted to know I would have to ask Carlisle himself.

"You can try, but he won't give you a straight answer. As your sisters and brother are finding out in there."

It took me a few seconds for me to realize he had meant Elezear when he said my brother. Though we did view him as such, it was not usually a title we used aloud. We had always been sisters – no brothers. Well, except from…

I stopped my thoughts dead.

Edward was scrutinizing me.

"Sorry, I don't mean to pry-"

"But you can hardly avoid it, can you," I commented with a laugh.

"No," he said ruefully, shaking his head. "Carlisle is wondering why I haven't started playing yet. He's hoping my music will distract the others from their questioning."

"Well, we wouldn't want to deny him the chance to play the proud father."

Edward smiled weakly and then he began to play the first notes of the song. Carlisle had not been lying – he was a phenomenal piano player. I drunk in the sight of him – the brooding, handsome, piano player. A personal favourite of mine found by scouring the jazz clubs down in Canada. But Edward was so much more than those silly human men.

I watched his hands fly over the keys. So fast. So talented.

Unfortunately, we were then joined by Carlisle and the rest of my coven.

"That was beautiful, Edward," Carmen gushed as he finished the song. I pushed her comment away knowing she was not competition.

"Astounding," Kate added with a smile.

"Wonderful," Irina commented. Her smile was the pleasantest I'd ever seen her show to a new vampire.

This was going to be very interesting.

Edward was clearly uncomfortable with all our attention on him.

"Play another song, Edward," Carlisle suggested. Edward looked relieved to be able to turn his attention back to the keys. Nobody said much as he played the next song and I just stood and took in the sight once more. When the song finished, Edward began a new one instantly, obviously hoping to avoid comment.

I heard Carlisle gasp. His entire body had stiffened. Edward played on oblivious, focused only on his playing. From upstairs, I heard a large sob.

I tried to figure out what was so upsetting about the piece of music. It was a happy piece – a lover's piece. As you listened you could imagine watching two people falling in love. But then the music turned dark. Things did not end well for this pair of lovers.

The last ominous note hung in the air as Edward finished playing. He was just about to start another piece when Carlisle spoke.

"You, you changed the ending." His voice was laced with misery. Was it his and Esme's story that was told in the music?

Edward turned to his father - his eyes wide in horror. "Sorry," he stammered. "I didn't mean to. I didn't realize what I was playing. I never meant for you to hear that."

"It's OK," Carlisle said soothingly. "It's not your fault."

"Isn't it?" Edward asked darkly.

"Edward-" He was out the door before Carlisle could finish his sentence. I heard the back door slamming shut.

"What, what was that about?" Carmen asked cautiously.

"It, the song, it," Carlisle stammered, tripping over his words. "He blames himself."

"For what?" I asked.

"For letting go."

"Letting go?" Kate questioned.

Carlisle sighed. "It's a long story."

"We have time, you know," Irina pointed out.

Carlisle's eyes flickered to the doorway where Edward had just stormed out.

"I need to go talk to Edward," he announced and followed his son out the door. The back door slammed shut a second time.

"I know Carlisle's always been a private person, but this is ridiculous," Kate declared.

"The woman," Irina said. "Do you think she's Carlisle's mate or not?"

"She has to be," Kate said. "Have you seen the way he looks at her?"

"Yes," I told her. "Helplessly and wishful. Something definitely either happened or Carlisle wants it to. But no mated vampires have ever looked that miserable with their mates still alive."

"I still say she is," Kate argued. "They're clearly just having a lover's tiff."

Irina scoffed. "That looked like more than a 'tiff'."

"You know what I mean," Kate said.

"I wonder what it's about," Carmen said.

"Who knows," I said.

"She is his mate," Kate insisted.

"She can't be," I disagreed.

"Hundred dollars?" Kate asked with a smirk.

"We have three miserable vampires in our house – one who is our friend – and you're betting on them?" Carmen asked incredulously.

"Kate is betting on them," I corrected.

"Tanya just doesn't want to be proved wrong," Kate taunted.

"I would like nothing more than to be wrong," I corrected.

The back door opened and closed once more. A very harassed-looking Carlisle walked back into the room.

"Where's Edward?" Carmen asked, concerned.

"In the forest. He's too fast for me to catch up to if he doesn't want me to."

"I'll try," I volunteered.

"Tanya, there's no need for you to do that," Carlisle insisted. "Edward will be back in his own time."

"But I might as well try," I countered. I left before he could argue against me.

Finding Edward was easier said than done though. His scent criss-crossed all over the forest.

_Edward? Can you hear me? _I couldn't help but feel vaguely ridiculous shouting his name within my own head.

_Carlisle's really upset you know. _Apparently, I was not above guilt trips.

"I figured," Edward dropped down from the nearest tree.

"So why are you hiding up a tree from him?" I demanded.

"Because there's little I can do to help him," he replied. His voice was grave.

"How about you don't hide up a tree?" I snapped. This was not the conversation I had intended to have with Edward. I certainly hadn't expected to be this angry at him.

"I suppose I am making things worse, but I've all but given up trying to make them better."

"Well you shouldn't," I growled, still fuelled by my unexplained anger.

"Haven't you seen them?" he insisted. "What more can I do?"

"Keep trying!"

"It's useless. Why try?"

"Because you're lucky to have a father." I had meant to add 'like Carlisle', but I found the sentence stopping there instead.

_Lucky to have a father because we no longer have our mother. _I winced. So long I hadn't thought her and now I had twice in one day because of Carlisle and his son.

"You lost your mother?" Edward exclaimed.

I hissed furiously at him. I did not need his pity and I certainly did not need him in my head.

"Sorry," he said hastily. "I didn't mean to pry."

"I know," I reassured him, forcing myself to let go of my anger. "You can't help it, can you?"

He shook his head. "I lost my mother, too," he admitted quietly. "And my father, just before her." That part confused me for a few seconds until I realized he must mean his human parents. I couldn't even remember mine. "Though I suppose it's not the same," he continued.

"How did they die?" I knew it was hypocritical of me to ask him questions about his parents' death while being angry at him for unintentionally prying about my own mother, but curiosity over-ruled that thought. After all, he was the one to mention them.

"Do you know of Spanish Influenza?" I nodded, remembering the panic amongst the humans a few years back. "My parents both died of it. And I would of, too. But my mother recognized Carlisle, our doctor, for what he was – or at least something different – and she begged him to save me. To do everything in his power."

I watched him carefully as he explained, both intrigued and saddened by his tale.

_So that's what changed Carlisle's mind about changing another after all this time._

"Indeed. You're right, of course. I should be more thankful for him than I am sometimes. As you can see today, I'm often a failure of a son."

"I wouldn't go that far, Edward. Carlisle clearly loves you deeply."

"Despite all I've done," he muttered morbidly.

"All you've done?"

"I've ruined Carlisle's life," he told me bitterly. "And failed both my mothers."

"Now don't you think that a little melodramatic?" It wasn't until after I'd spoken I realised the full implications of his words.

'_Both my mothers.' Then who is the second mother? _The only possible answer I could think of was Carlisle's cheerless possible-but-most-likely-not mate.

Edward raised his eyebrows at that thought.

"Well, is she?"

Edward's oh-so-eloquent answer was to shrug at me.

"It's not that difficult a question to answer. Either they've mated or they've not. Did you just suppress a shudder?" The last part was asked incredulously as I watched his response.

"Excuse me for not wanting to think about that. And using that logic, couldn't any of your human … consorts count as your mates."

I laughed. "Humans aren't mates. Though I suppose I have had a bit of fun with a few vampires that certainly weren't my mate."

"Exactly. Carlisle and Elezear are approaching. Apparently we're going on a male-bonding hunt, while you women are going to attempt to get Esme out of her shell."

"Lucky us," I murmured sarcastically. Carlisle and Elezear joined us.

"Ever tried polar bear, Edward?" Elezear asked. Edward grinned and a twinkle of excitement entered his eyes.

"I'll see you all at home," I told them and head back towards the house.

I found my sisters sat in the living room. Esme was nowhere in sight. A quick check of my surroundings told me she was upstairs in the library.

"Carlisle tried to talk her into coming down, but she's holed herself in there instead," Kate told me, obviously noticing the direction of my stare.

"Because I'm sure she'd be such sparkling company if she was down here," Irina commented sarcastically.

"Sssh," Carmen hissed. "She can hear you."

"She can hear you, too," Irina pointed out. Carmen looked vaguely embarrassed, though of course without the red cheeks humans associate with embarrassment.

"To be honest, I doubt anything we say is going to be able to make her more miserable," Kate pointed out. None of us could argue with that.

"There's something we're missing, there has to be," Carmen speculated.

"You mean a sensible reason why Carlisle has chosen to trail the country with a sarcastic mind-reader and a creepily silent newborn?" Irina said.

"Why did they come here? Did Carlisle say, Tanya?" Kate asked.

"He said he wanted to bring Esme somewhere secluded." At least he had in the letter, since he had said so very little about her since they arrived.

"So that means she struggling with this lifestyle," Carmen pointed out.

"Well, Carlisle shouldn't try and force it on her – it should be her choice," Kate proclaimed.

"And Edward's too. He's hardly a happy bunny," Irina chipped in.

"What was with the whole 'son' thing?" Kate asked. "I guess you were wrong there, sister."

"Well, when he sent us a letter three years ago telling us he changed a boy, what else was I supposed to think?" I defended. Like they hadn't all thought the exact same.

"Yes, we were all surprised when the latest letter said he'd changed a woman as well," Carmen murmured.

"But why?" I asked.

"Isn't that obvious?" Kate said scornfully.

"If you'd said that before they arrived I would have agreed with you quite readily," I replied.

"Just because it don't work out like he wanted doesn't mean it wasn't his intention," Irina said.

"True, but that just doesn't seem like Carlisle," Carmen said sadly.

"If he didn't change her for that reason, then why did he?" Irina commented sceptically.

Carmen shrugged.

I remembered the reason why Edward has said Carlisle changed him. Had he changed Esme for similar reasons? Sheer compassion rather than purpose? Though, of course, I felt it was safe to assume a need for companionship would have played a role in Carlisle's choice to listen to Edward's human mother's plea.

A different reason occurred to me then. Had he changed Esme to give Edward a mother again? I remembered his slip up about 'both his mothers.' Then again, anyone who wanted to be Edward's mother would also have to be Carlisle's wife. Was that what Carlisle had been imagining? A perfect nuclear family: mother, father, and child. Once I had considered it, it seemed so simple. I wondered what had gone awry with this plan. Had Carlisle simply chosen the wrong woman to try and complete his family with? For Esme, so cold and distant, did not seem like anyone's mother.

"Maybe he wanted to give Edward a mother."

"And himself a mate in the process," Irina said.

It was my turn to shrug.

"I'm going to go talk to her," Carmen announced.

"Good luck," the rest of us muttered. She left the room and we heard her enter the library.

"Maybe a night out would cheer her up," Kate suggested. Irina snorted.

"I think it'll take more than that," I said sadly.

"I doubt Carlisle would want us to anyway," Irina added.

Kate laughed. "Yes, he probably wouldn't appreciate us trying to turn his would-be mate into a succubus."

I rolled my eyes. "Of course we wouldn't do that."

"Why not? A little bit of fun might cheer her up," Kate said with a smirk.

"She's too young," I pointed out.

"I never thought I'd hear the day where you were trying to stop us from corrupting innocent minds, sister," Irina said dryly.

"I meant as a vampire. She's not even out of her newborn year. I doubt killing someone is going to cheer her up."

"Talking of corrupting innocent young minds, Edward's certainly a handsome young man, sister." Kate looked at me pointedly, smirking once more.

Irina sighed. "This is going to be another challenge between you two, isn't it?" Her voice was exasperated, but I could see she was fighting a smile.

"What's life without a bit of competition?" I said with a grin.

Both of them laughed. In the momentary silence that followed, I could hear Carmen and Esme whispering to each other. Just quiet enough for me to not be able to make out the words. Carmen had perfected that art ever since she realized we could overhear her and Elezear talking. For some reason, she had no problem with us over-hearing over things but she didn't like us listening in to their private lovers' conversations. I could only assume Esme was following her lead. It was shocking enough that Carmen had even got her to talk.

"Indeed," Kate agreed, also grinning. "Well you be joining our spot of fun, sister?"

Irina raised an eyebrow at us critically. "Considering this is Carlisle's son of all people, I think it would be more entertaining to sit back and watch you two fail."

"She makes an excellent point, Kate. He is annoyingly like his father."

Kate laughed slightly. A few seconds later her laugh became a lot more rambunctious.

"Care to share the joke, sister?" I asked.

"What if he's exactly like we thought his father was? Hell, we thought they both were to we got the letter about Esme."

"He seemed less than happy about the thought when he overheard me," I told them.

"Oh yeah, the mind-reading thing. Imagine that. Being able to hear the person's thoughts whilst having sex."

"It would make things interesting I'm certain," I said calmly. Though I was thinking through the ramifications of her words. It would certainly be a new experience and wasn't I always looking for those?

"So which one of us lucky ladies will experience it?" Irina asked. She, too, was now smirking.

"'Us'?" Kate asked.

Irina rolled her eyes. "I might you two, of course," she replied smoothly. But she was smiling. "You know what. I think I'll go check on Carmen and Esme now. Make sure the newborn hasn't completely depressed our sister."

Kate and I both laughed. "You do that then," Kate remarked.

With a final amused smile, Irina left the room. "She's right," I heard her say from upstairs. "He has no right to be angry at you for acting like a newborn. What I don't get is why you don't just leave if it makes you so miserable?"

"Excuse me." Fury was etched into every syllable of Esme's words. Clearly, Irina had just said the wrong thing. "I could never leave Carlisle."

"O…K," Irina said slowly, obviously bemused by Esme's reaction.

"She is so Carlisle's mate," Kate said.

"I think you may be right, sister," I agreed.

"And it appears to depress the living daylights out of her," Irina announced as she walked back into the room.

From upstairs, Esme's loud sobs could clearly be heard.

"Why though?" I asked.

Irina shrugged. "Maybe she'll tell Carmen."

"Can … can I ask you something a little personal? What _exactly_ is Carlisle to you?" We heard Carmen ask. Esme gave no reply but Carmen gave a little exclaim of surprise.

Esme chuckled dryly. "I suppose it would be pretty difficult to tell, given how we've been acting."

"Why are you acting like that though? I mean, I guess it's safe to assume you don't always act like this. Has it just been like that since you killed the boy?" Carmen asked.

So that was it. It was a kill that had caused the cloud of depression to rain down so heavily on Esme.

"If you love him, and I've no doubt you do." All three of us looked at each other upon hearing our suspicions confirmed. "You should be able to turn to him for support."

"I…I can't. He can tell me that 'it was a mistake' and 'it doesn't matter', but he doesn't … he doesn't get it. How can he, when he's gone how many centuries without killing a person?" Esme's voice was desolate.

"It's only two, Esme," Carmen pointed out. I almost laughed out loud at the absurdness of Esme's overreaction. To be so depressed and bring down those you loved all because of two deaths while surrounded by those who had killed thousands. I probably should have felt more guilty about that than I did. But the past was the past and I couldn't change it. I won't lie and say I didn't even enjoy it. A dead partner was just never a good end to sex.

"_Only _two?" Esme asked incredulously. I stopped listening as Carmen began to explain exactly how many people she had killed, she would set the young vampire straight.

"All this because of two people," Irina muttered.

~o~ ~O~ ~o~

We returned home from our hunt that's sole purpose had been to give Carlisle and Esme some time to talk.

Beside me, Edward scoffed. I looked at him curiously.

"They haven't exactly been talking," he explained.

"Oh great," Carmen muttered.

"So what they've spent the last three hours ignoring each other?" Irina asked, irritated.

Edward didn't answer. Though I could swear he was trying to suppress a smirk.

"Esme? Carlisle?" I shouted as we walked into the house.

"They're in the guest room," Edward said. His voice held just the smallest hint of disgust.

"I say we drag her out with us and talk some sense into her," Kate suggested. "We were planning a night out anyway. Obviously she won't want to participate in certain activities our night's out usually consist of."

"I still maintain that there is no way on Earth Carlisle will let us take his mate on one of our night's out," Irina commented.

"Well, it's worth a shot," I muttered. "May as invite Edward as well, hadn't we, Kate?"

I heard Carlisle and Esme enter the room.

"Indeed," Kate agreed.

"Esme," I called my name as she turned around, "we were thinking of going out for the night, you what to come? You should come, too, Edward. I'd ask you, Carlisle, but I know you'd just say no." As I spoke my eyes settled on Carlisle and Esme's interlocked hands. Taking their appearances into account there was no denying they looked a little ruffled. I choked back a laugh. No, they hadn't been talking, but something else entirely.

_If there was any doubt about her being Carlisle's mate it's gone now._

"Looks like you owe me hundred dollars, sister," Kate said, obviously her train of thought was the same as mine.

She wasn't going to be getting that hundred dollars from me anytime soon though. I distinctly remembered not actually taking her up on the bet.

"I think I'll stay at home, Tanya," Carlisle said.

"Me, too," Esme said instantly. Carlisle wrapped his arm around her waist and kissed her forehead. It was strange, after watching them both be so miserable and distant from one and other, to see them now smiling at me and being all lovey-dovey. An improvement, obviously, but it would take some time to get use to it.

Carlisle, who had always been so shy and timid and likely to hesitate away from any alien touch, was now stood with his arm wrapped firmly around a woman. A woman he'd undeniably been inside an hour earlier.

"What about you, Edward?" I spun around to face him "Surely you don't want to stay at home with the boring old mated couples?" Edward looked uncomfortable. He was pretty much taking Carlisle's place in that department.

"There's no need to look so worried, Edward," Kate chimed in. "We'll bring you home to your mommy and daddy in one piece."

From the corner of my eye, I saw Esme look away awkwardly. I remembered once more Edward's words about 'both his mothers'. He obviously hadn't told Esme this.

_You should tell her, Edward. It'd be good for all three of you._

Edward would get a mother and Carlisle would get his perfect nuclear family.

"Well, I'm not-" Edward begin to protest to Kate.

"Oh, come on, Edward. Have a little fun," I insisted.

"Yeah, you don't want to be stuck at home with the, how did you word it, sister? Oh yes, boring mated couples," Carmen said.

"Especially not a boring married couple," Elezear added with a grin in Carlisle and Esme's direction

"Married?" I asked, spinning around to face the pair of them. Kate and Irina echoed me. Smiling brightly, Carlisle and Esme were both holding up their left hands. A wedding ring glistened on both of their ring fingers and on Esme's there was also the sparkle of an engagement ring.

Kate let out a low whistle. "That's a hell of a rock you got there, Esme." It certainly was.

Trust Carlisle to go the whole hog. He wouldn't accept just having a mate, he wanted a wife. In fact, I would have been willing to bet that Esme wasn't his mate in the direct sense of the word until after they were married. It was something no other vampire would ever consider and so typically Carlisle.

"Congratulations," Irina said.

"Yes, congratulations to the pair of you," I said, warmly.

"Right, let's go get ready," Kate announced.

"You, too, Edward, you're coming," I insisted.

Edward shuffled uncomfortably.

"Go, Edward," Esme insisted. I was beginning to rather like her now that she actually talked.

Edward gave a long-suffering sigh. "I don't have any choice in the matter, do I?" he asked.

"No," all three of us answered at once.

We all headed to our separate rooms. I listened into Carlisle and Esme as I got ready.

"Do you have any idea what you just got our son into?" Carlisle asked Esme.

"What? He's just off out for a nice night out. Right?"

Carlisle chuckled. "Right, love," he agreed. A little condescendingly in my opinion.

"I know that look, Carlisle Cullen. What aren't you telling me?" Esme said forcefully. Yes, I was definitely beginning to like her.

"Do you know what a succubus is?"

"No. Should I?"

"No… let's just say that's what the sisters are," Carlisle answered teasingly. I had never heard him sound so relaxed and happy before. He certainly didn't go round teasing people when I had last seen him.

"Oh!" I heard the distinctive metal ding of a vampire hitting another vampire. Very gently, by the sound of it. Most likely just a small tap. Either way, I was quickly growing rather fond of Esme. "Tell me!" she insisted.

"Let's go check on our son," Carlisle said, in an obvious attempt to dodge the matter. I was kind of let down when Esme allowed him to get away with it.

I was concentrating on fixing my hair when I heard Esme squeal about how dapper Edward looked. I had to laugh slightly when she then pointed out his tie was crooked.

"Stop being such a mom, Esme," Edward told her. A silence followed. I had been correct in assuming Edward had never told Esme he thought of her as his second mother.

"You look smashing, son," Carlisle said.

"Thanks, Dad. Thanks," I heard Edward pause.

_If you can hear me, just say it. I'm sure it'll make her and Carlisle happy._

"Mom," he said.

_Wasn't so hard now, was it?_

There was an impatient knock on my door. Abandoning the awkward lock of hair, I went to open it to Edward.

"You shouldn't have made me do that," he whispered.

"He called me Mom," Esme muttered in the other room. But she didn't sound happy.

"Can we go?" Edward said tensely.

"Of course," I agreed. My sisters, having obviously overheard the conversation, meet us at the doorway.

The last thing I heard before we left the house was Esme saying, "I don't deserve a son."

"Sorry," I muttered to Edward as we slowed down along the main road away from our house. We were in no rush to get anywhere and the depth of the snow meant no car would be on this road tonight. You could barely tell it was suppose to be a road. Our footsteps trailed behind us in the foot deep snow. On the off chance anyone saw they would just assume we were unfortunate car passengers who had been walking for help. Even if we choose to run again and therefore stopped leaving footsteps, it would just be assumed we had not survived the roguish winter weather.

"You were trying to help," Edward replied calmly. Both of my sisters looked at us with intrigue.

"I didn't expect it to make her miserable again." And God knows, I didn't want to.

"What did she mean?" Kate asked Edward curiously. "'I don't deserve a son.' I mean she's Carlisle's mate, wife even. Boy does that sound weird. And you're his son. It's only natural that she should be your mother."

"It's a… sensitive issue with Esme," Edward answered carefully.

"Did she have children her previous life?" I asked. I wished I hadn't when I saw Kate and Irina wince. We all know who had been my inspiration behind that question, even while I tried my best not to acknowledge it.

Edward hesitated for a few seconds, before nodding.

Irina hissed violently. "What the hell was Carlisle thinking, changing her? What of her children?"

"Sister," I called consolingly. "We should not judge before knowing the whole story." For surely Carlisle of all people would never do that?

"Her son was already dead at the time of Esme's change," Edward answered. "Please don't ask me for further details then that. Just know that Esme did not live a happy life and she is thankful to Carlisle for saving her, as she views it."

"And you don't?" I questioned.

"Oh, he saved Esme," Edward muttered. "She will recover from her slip-up and go back to being her usual cheery self soon enough."

"And you?" Kate asked. She had obviously picked up on the bitterness in his voice, too. "Did he save you?"

"Depends who you ask," Edward replied.

"We're asking you," I pointed out.

"Then yes, Carlisle did save me from dying of Influenza." I noted how carefully worded his answer was. Carlisle saved him from dying. Whether he was thankful about this like Esme was uncertain.

Edward sighed. "So where are you taking me anyway?" he asked. It was an obvious end to our interrogation of him.

"Just a little place for a few 'drinks' in Denali," Kate answered.

"Let's go then," Edward said and began to run. He was faster than all three of us and remained in the lead until we got to the outskirts of Denali and I pointed out he didn't know where we were going. He simply laughed and led us straight to outside our favourite spot.

"How did you know that?" Kate exclaimed.

Edward tapped his temple in response, smirking at us. It was a very devilish smirk.

Kate and Irina headed inside. Edward made to follow them, but I caught his arm. He looked at me curiously as I attempted to guard my thoughts. I didn't really know how best to do it and was currently just singing the Russian National Anthem rather loudly hoping it would disguise my other thoughts.

"Yes, Tanya?" he asked politely, though I could see the curiosity burning in his eyes.

"If you found your mate, like Esme has, could you then view yourself as truly saved?"

Edward sighed. "You can't save me, Tanya," he said gently. He was holding the door open for me.

"I can try," I replied, turning around to face him as he followed me into the bar. I laughed merrily, smiling at him. "I rather think Carlisle and Esme would like a daughter-in-law."

Edward raised an eyebrow at me. "I didn't think that was your style, Tanya."

"People can change," I told him. I was walking backwards now to keep him in my line of sight. "Though if you'd just prefer a one-night only deal, that's fine with me."

"Unfortunately, Tanya, I am, as you keep saying, annoyingly like my father in this aspect."

"So I have to go the whole hog then? Wedding rings and all?"

"Tanya," Edward began cautiously.

"I jest, Edward. I'm not exactly the marrying type. Let's go and find my sisters."

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